Arc 2: 13 Journey's End
by Macx
Summary: The research into Protogen continues, the only chance for Spike to survive. On Nebulos the situation grows ever more critical


**Journey's End**   
by Birgit Staebler

  
He was trapped.   
His arms and legs didn't move. They were heavy .... somehow alien to him. He couldn't twitch a finger and he couldn't even feel them anymore. He saw his arms, his fingers, his legs, but they weren't his.   
His heart beat.   
No..... it didn't.....   
Listening very hard, trying to feel his heartbeat, he couldn't..... no heartbeat. He was dead.   
But he was also alive!   
His mind gasped, though there was no sound coming over his lips. Everything was suddenly coming toward him and he couldn't move. He was trapped, unable to run, unable to cry, unable to .....

Spike woke with a start, his eyes flying open, staring into the darkness. For a fleeting moment he was close to panicking as he couldn't see anything but the blackness, then his eyes adjusted and he made out the faint contours all around him. He heard sounds, though dimmed through the walls and the only partially open window, and he felt a presence beside him.   
Carly. His wife.   
He inhaled deeply, trying to banish the nightmare, but its memory stuck to him. It hadn't been the worst of his collection of accumulated nightmares lately, but it had been bad enough. Holding up a hand, Spike studied it in the twilight of the room.   
Five fingers.   
Skin.   
Finger nails.   
He curled it into a fist, feeling his fingers move.   
But not really. This wasn't his hand. It was a cybernetic replacement, one connected to his nervous system and mimicking sensitivity.   
It was no longer working. He was losing part of his sensitivity, his mind adjusting to the fact that this was not the real thing, that there were sensors which could be blocked, that the nervous system in this arm was nothing but mechanical.   
Spike sat up and swung his legs over the bed. Like his arms and some inner parts they were cybernetic. He didn't feel a difference -- only when he concentrated on them and then the difference hit him with a bang. It was like being partially cut off from the world, to feel less than the average human. It wasn't as bad as his time as an Autobot in a completely artificial body, but it was slowly getting like it.   
Rubbing his eyes he grabbed for his robe, pulled it on and silently left the bedroom, trying not to disturb Carly. As every time when he had a nightmare he went outside on the porch and sat down in his favorite chair, watching the stars.   
And as every time, Carly was wide awake, lying in the bed, knowing there was nothing she or anyone could do.

* * *

"We have lost twenty percent of our storage depots."   
The sentence hung in the air and Katalumera thought she could see it drop and shatter on the cold steel floor.   
Ath'antheia regarded the other Tji in front of him with a cold expression. Then again, his expression was always cold because the body shell was dead and showed no facial expression. Nevertheless, right now his stare was frigid.   
"Twenty percent," he echoed coolly.   
"Yes, Sir," the hapless Tji muttered.   
"How?"   
It was a single question, but it cut through the command center like a knife through butter. The Tji ducked a bit.   
"We registered a ship coming into the system of the last hit. It was of Cybertronian origin, though we can't be sure. It was cloaked and went in as fast as it left. Uhm," he seemed to gulp nervously, "we think it was a Cybertronian strike team."   
Ath'antheia's eyes turned even colder. After what had happened in the last years, this was about to blow the lid. The Tji had had several victories, but the Cybertronians had not given in to despair, even though one of their allies was now almost decimated down to a meager few thousand people, all still dying. It was strange and it was something to take into consideration for further action -- something which had lead the Tji leader not to attack Earth -- but that they were now actually striking back.....?   
"We also picked up something on the surveillance cameras of the a base that was destroyed a few days ago," the Tji continued.   
"Yes?" Ath'antheia's voice sounded very dangerous now. He had thought of this as an easy victory, that they could reclaim Cybertron and the experiments within a few standard months, but they were putting up a bigger fight than anticipated.   
The underling gestured for another Tji to come forward. Katalumera recognized him. His name was Dhichet, a pure-bread scientist without an inch of talent as a warrior. He was a genius in the area of electronic surveillance and tape restoration, better than any hacker she had ever met. That was also the reason why he didn't have a very strong body shell. In fact, he had chosen a small, rather light form without armament. Now he loaded a display unit with tape.   
"That's what we got before the depot blew up," he explained, voice calm and not the least bit displaying nervousness, rolling a tape. Dhichet was never nervous. At least Katalumera had never seen him that way. The screen showed gray and white ink blots. "We put it through various' cleaning processes and were able to get a much better version."   
Again he shoved in a tape. This one showed a black and white picture of some landscape or other. Katalumera wasn't sure. The quality of the tape was incredibly bad for some recently cleaned up recording.   
"You don't see much," Dhichet said, smiling at his leader. "Something scrambled our recordings. But then I began working on it and got this."   
Another tape, another screen lit up. This time there was a very clear shot of trees and open ground. It was the area in front of the depot, which had been located on a jungle-like planet. The camera swooped down, pinning a jet in flight in its vision. The jet zick-zacked toward the camera, evading laser fire from the depot's meager defense system, and then a bolt of white lightning shot toward it. The building behind the camera apparently blew because the picture made a wide arc, then aimed at the jet again. Just before it came back into full vision something seemed to rock the camera. There were a lot of disturbances and then the screen went blank.   
Ath'antheia frowned. "What happened?"   
"The camera was destroyed." Dhichet shrugged. "It's the only one of the two who shot some pictures. The other one was destroyed before the jet came into range."   
"Can you get me a close-up of the symbol on the jet's wings?"   
"Sure." He keyed in several commands, the picture on the screen was enlarged, cleared up further and then rotated.   
"Gatekeeper," Katalumera whispered.   
Ath'antheia met her surprised look and nodded. It was one they knew. This one had freed the female Key and destroyed another base.   
"Find the Cybertronian strike teams! Destroy them!" he now ordered. "But I want the Gatekeeper alive!"   
"Yes, Sir." The other Tji moved hastily away, Dhichet trailing behind.   
Katalumera approached her leader. "You think it will be this easy?" she asked.   
He smiled darkly. "No, but it gives us an opportunity to test some of our fighters and ships. While they are busy evading our own strike teams we can continue preparing to hit the main target without any interruptions."   
She frowned a bit. "But the reconnaissance mission didn't go too well. Do you think we have enough information about Cybertron to really strike there?"   
He chuckled. "Not yet, and yes, Coshoff never had the chance to fulfill his mission, but he did enough, as far as I know. And he is not the only one who gave us status information. We will strike back, right at the heart of those robotic creatures, and destroy them!"   
Katalumera looked at the map in the middle of the bridge. Yes, they would strike,   
but she was not ready to bet on their hundred percent success. The Cybertronians were not what Ath'antheia saw in them, that much she had learned. She respected them. She was careful concerning them. And there was always Ralyk. Katalumera had a healthy respect of the ancient entity as well.   
"What about the Gatekeeper?" she then wanted to know.   
"A rogue. I don't believe Ralyk would really risk losing one of its precious children. He is connected to the Key we interrogated and he also held half of the activation code for the space station." Ath'antheia smiled nastily. "He went rogue and is on a retaliation run. Let him. We can deal with one insane Gatekeeper and trap him."   
Katalumera only nodded and then left the bridge to transfer back to her own battle fortress, deep in thought as she read the latest reports.   
They had to be really careful.....

* * *

Nightmare looked around, trying not to appear too out-of-place, which was no small feat since he was a rather tall robot. The fact that he was now transformed into his equine mode didn't change a lot. He was still larger than a normal horse and he didn't even look much like the Earth animal. And that he had a small, brown colored lizard sitting between his ears was no big help either.   
"Welcome to Wind's Fall. Small, cozy, no tourists," someone greeted them.   
"Oi!" Bat exclaimed and looked around with wide eyes. "Nice place!"   
Nightmare chuckled and smiled at the dark-haired human walking his way. Melissa Witwicky looked better than the last time he had seen her, which had been after she had been released from hospital and before she had come to Earth for her treatment.   
"Hello, M.J.," he greeted her. "And as Bat correctly said, it is a nice place."   
She shrugged. "Yeah, well. It's really nice ..... especially in winter. It's like frozen hell here. The lake is packed with ice and we have hellish snowstorms some years." She grinned. "I wouldn't want to live here, but Daniel and Kim think it's fun."   
Bat hopped up and down between Nightmare's ears, excitedly muttering 'oi-oi-oi'. Nightmare shook his head and he took off, sailing around them, faceted eyes awhirl with joy.   
Nightmare followed Mel away from where he had landed and looked around. Wind's Fall really wasn't much to look at. There was one main street, directly at the quay, and a few side roads. The houses were either one or two stories high, mostly old and looking like out of a postcard collection. Fish nets were hung up to dry all along the quay road. Small boats decorated the spaces between one net and the other. Nightmare guessed that the few dozen houses was all there was to the little town. No tourist attraction in any way, except maybe for a spectacular sunrise over the lake.   
It was very peaceful all around him. Most of the town's people were out on the lake, fishing or whatever they else did for a living here. No one was looking at the large, black and blue colored robot, and those who did weren't alarmed by his appearance. The town's people knew who Daniel Witwicky was and they knew about his job. They didn't ask any stupid questions, they didn't inquire about his past and they treated him normally. People who came here wanted to be left alone and have their peace, and Wind's Fall respected this wish.   
Mel gestured at a small house close by. "The Witwicky home."   
"Ah."   
He looked at it. It was small, but looked well-kept. There was a garden in front of it, circling to the left and disappearing behind the house. It looked a bit wild and unkempt. Trees cast shadows along the garden, tall grass was moving in the gentle morning wind. Vines were covering parts of the small fence around the garden and ivy had begun to cover the front of the building. It was beautiful to look at, though it would soon need a hand.   
Bat landed on the fence and balanced on it, wings outstretched. "Oi! Wossname! Jungle! Neat-o!"   
"It's just a short drive from here to the city Dan always tells me," Mel went on, grinning about the ecstatic Bat, "but you wouldn't catch me out here nevertheless. Too quiet!"   
Nightmare chuckled. "So the doctors let you out?" he inquired.   
"Hey, I wasn't an inmate! And yes, they 'let me out'. Dr. de Palma said I'm fine, the Net works perfectly..."   
"And now you want to learn how to use the little details it has," the Gatekeeper finished with a grin.   
She shrugged. "Since I have these features inside me I better learn what they are. So.... you decided to help me?"   
"How could I deny such a nice request?"   
Nightmare still blamed himself for the accident that had blinded his human friend. He felt personally responsible for the blindness and he would do anything to help. When Mel had been given the Net implant, he had volunteered to train her concerning her new 'eyes'.   
Mel gave him a mock glare. "Yeah, uh-huh! And you wanted some time away from Cybertron, right? Get back to a world not made out of metal."   
Nightmare shrugged. "If it's so obvious...."   
Mel knew about his past, that he had spent most of his second life on a natural beauty of a planet until the doorway he had guarded had been destroyed. Nightmare loved nature and she knew he didn't like staying down in tunnels around the Cybertron centerway a lot.   
She chuckled. "Yes. So, what you want to do first? Have a sight seeing tour? Stretch your legs? Or get me up to date on Cybertron affairs?"   
That was the moment the door opened and a blonde whirlwind stormed out. "Aunt Mel!" Dana cried, then her eyes widened as she saw Nightmare. "Neat!"   
The equine Gatekeeper sighed. "Who does that remind me off?" he asked philosophically.   
Mel only laughed as she watched her niece claim Nightmare and Bat as her new friends while Kim watched from the doorway, exchanging knowing looks with her sister-in-law.   
This was going to be fun.

* * *

Protogen.   
First Aid looked at the word on the screen, his face impassive as ever, but someone who knew him very well saw the curious frown.   
Protogen.   
It was something new. Something outstanding. Something he would never have thought of. It was from a file retrieved from an ancient Tji research base and it might hold the answer to problem.   
Protogen.   
A supra-light metal structure containing complicated machinery, similar to the circuits each Cybertronian had, and some kind of energy bubble which replicated something First Aid would call the 'brain unit'. It was small, it was light and it was still strong. The energy bubble lay in the chest area, protected by several shields, which were like thin but incredible dense layers of skin.   
And then there was the gel. It covered the metal super structure like a skin, consisting of tiny machines, tiny even by human standards. First Aid had run tests with a small amount of them and was astounded by their ability to replicate any kind of texture.   
Protogen.   
It meant possible survival. A hope.   
Now they only had to get it to work.   
The medic turned away from the screen and downloaded some data, then walked over to the adjoining lab where Disaster was busy with his part of the Protogen project. First Aid was tackling the problem of inserting an already consisting consciousness into the energy bubble. He was looking into the schematics, the wires, the energy transfers, everything. He had all the data from the recovered files, but no one had added a manual. Disaster had taken over the construction of the first Protogen body and he was proceeding nicely. It was an as delicate procedure as First Aid's and he was busy day and night.   
"How is it going?" the Protectobot asked.   
Disaster looked up and smiled a bit. "Better than previously expected. I'm still not sure how to control the ants, but now they at least stay on the super structure."   
Disaster had nicknamed the tiny machines 'ants', though nanites might be another word for them. They had no intelligence of their own and they worked in a community controlled by an outside force, currently the lab's main computer.   
"I believe that the moment we insert the energy bubble, the ants will listen to its impulses, though that's only a theory," the Decepticon scientist went on. "A lot of the bubble's connection circuits are running toward the outside, getting it in touch with the skin."   
"So neural impulses flow from the skin to the brain."   
Disaster nodded. "Unlike our bodies. The Protogen form is like a human body -- several times more sensitive to outside stimuli. I guess it can be controlled, but I'm not sure how yet."   
First Aid studied the read-outs and tapped his chin. "Well, it will help Spike adjust to the form if he agrees to work with us on it. No sensory deprivation."   
Disaster nodded. "Has anyone talked with Spike lately? Informed him about this possibility?"   
"Kyle is currently on his way to Earth to talk to both Dr. McGregor and Spike. I heard McGregor has encountered some difficulties concerning the cybernetics. Looks like they can't replace all dying tissue without grave danger." First Aid shook his head and sighed. "If they can't continue the work, this Protogen form is his last hope."   
Disaster's face showed a grim expression. "I know."   
He went back to work and First Aid left him alone. He had his own testing to do and there was also Nebulos, something he hated dealing with. Not because he didn't want to, but because he saw no chance of succeeding there. Nebulos was dying and everything they had given to help was just a snowflake in hell ...... it had failed to make a difference. First Aid had no idea what else to do or how to advise Chaos on what else to try. They had no more ideas left.

* * *

Megatron had left his office and a pile of work several hours ago, walking first along the corridors of South Port, then leaving the command base and drawing his paths through the immediate area. No one had dared to interfere with his pacing or even approach him with a minor request. Everything was relayed to Soundwave since Cyclonus was on a mission. Megatron was followed by a small, black shadow with white paws and a white-tipped tail. The black cat didn't make a sound as it trotted after him with a non-chalance that was unusual for a being in the close proximity of a walking volcanic eruption like Megatron. The cat's name was Sparks and she knew exactly how far she could go. Right now this distance was best described as a five feet radius from Megatron.   
Stopping at the corner of a building, Megatron stared out over the large, empty space in front of him. He didn't really seem to see the area around him. His eyes were drawn inwards, deep in thought. Sparks approached him carefully and settled slowly down beside him, ready to bolt in case he had this nervous kick again.   
"Thinking about her again?" she finally asked.   
"Go away." His voice was icy cold.   
Sparks raised a furry eyebrow. At least he was responding to her, which was more than he had done a few days ago. Too much had happened lately and events didn't stop, they kept rolling toward the Cybertronians, leaving no time for talking or taking a relaxed breath. Personal tragedies struck, pulling individuals down with them, sometimes even a whole group. One of those tragedies had been Sphere's abduction by the hands of the Tji and her torture, something best described as mind rape. She had come back to them, first in body because Starscream had freed her together with Soundwave and Blaster, then in mind as she had risen out of her coma. But she had changed. Sparks could tell by merely looking at her. She had come back but she was different. Sphere had suffered and it showed. She was emotionally fragile now, pulling back from others, trying to wall herself off from those who cared.   
And one of those was Megatron.   
Sparks was sure that Megatron himself didn't understand what he was feeling for the unusual robot, someone who had strange abilities, was of a humanoid heritage and also, in a way, Starscream's sister. She had gone through a lot he couldn't even imagine happening and she was not sharing her troubles. She was eating it all up inside. Megatron had shown his interest in her some time ago, mainly maybe as just another victory, another scratch mark somewhere, but his short interest had developed in a serious pursuit. Their relationship had gone off rough and bumpy, with Megatron making the wrong remarks, showing the wrong reactions to her revelation of being a humanoid in reality, someone who had been revived in this unusual robot body, and finally getting a few kicks and blows from her. He had left her more or less alone after that, though he had not given up -- while Starscream had stood back furiously as by request of Sphere, condemned to be just a watcher.   
And then she had been kidnapped. Since then, Megatron's attitude to her presence had changed again.   
"Talk to her," Sparks now suggested.   
He glared at the cat, his red optics appearing like on fire. "If you don't vanish in the next five seconds, I will help you disappear....." His fusion cannon pointed at her.   
Sparks only looked at him with calm, emerald optics. "You care for her."   
The statement let him hesitate and his cannon wavered. "Go away!"   
"You care for her," she repeated. "You might even love her, though I doubt your walnut-sized mind is ready for that emotion yet." Sparks grinned brightly.   
"You are living a dangerous life, cat!" he hissed.   
"That name is Sparks. I know your memory is getting worse, but this is ridiculous!"   
He glared even more. Sparks glared back and their optics were locked in silent battle. Sparks had the talent to outstare even a wall and Megatron was treated to a full dose of it.   
"What do you want?!" he finally demanded.   
"Nothing much. Go and talk to her."   
"No."   
Sparks sighed deeply. "And why, pray tell me?"   
Megatron was silent. Yes, why?   
Because she was so different? -- No, not really....   
Because of what had happened to her? -- Yes, maybe.....   
But mostly because he was afraid to hurt her. He cared for Sphere, the most outstanding female he had ever met, someone he had immediately had a deeper interest for and someone he had been ready to wait for.....   
Now this.   
"She is hurt," Sparks went on. "Her physical wounds healed, but her soul is scarred. You know it. You could help."   
"She has other friends. I'm not one of them," he snarled.   
"She has friends, but she doesn't need a friend ..... She needs a listener. Someone who understands. There are two qualified robots applying for this job, but one if MIA." Her optics stared right through his frigid red ones. "You are the only candidate left."   
"Get lost!"   
"Nope."   
Megatron bent down and his optics were fiery pits of molten lava. "Listen, flea bag...."   
"Sparks."   
"Fuzz ball!"   
"Sparks. Want me to spell it for you?" Her optics didn't waver or blink.   
"I can live my own life just fine. I don't need you to make suggestions and I sure don't need you running it!"   
"You do."   
Megatron growled and grabbed the small cat, lifting her high above the floor. She dangled in his hard grip, looking not the slightest bit impressed.   
"Go and talk to her," she said, her voice soft. "You know it is the best for both of you. She needs help and you can give it."   
His facial expression stayed one of rage for a brief second, then shifted to something seldom seen: insecurity. "She wouldn't even let me come close," he whispered, lowering Sparks and unconsciously taking her into his arms.   
She sighed and rubbed her head against his arm. "Try it."   
He looked out over the emptiness again.   
Try it.   
It sounded so easy.   
But it wasn't.

* * *

"Base this is CS Seven."   
Blaster keyed in several commands and opened the line. "CS Seven this base. Receivin' loud and clear."   
Eject, who was manning the second console and currently preparing a report to be sent to the Prime, listened up. CS Seven was one of the Counterstrike teams, the one sent out to blow another of the supply depots. Megatron had given the clear order that none of the heavily armed fighter bases would be a target. Only the lighter armed supply and fuel depots. The Tji would soon catch up on that strategy and secure them as well, but until then, until their luck ran out, they would push the advantage.   
They heard a crackle in the loudspeakers. "Base we have the cargo ready. Holding position."   
"Roger that!" Blaster answered. "Drop in ten standard minutes, coordinates Five-Zero-One. Go by the plan, guys."   
Fireflight repeated the coordinates, acknowledging that they would go on as planned, then cut the contact. They were going in.   
Blaster glanced at Eject, who only turned back to his work. They were all worried every time one of their teams was about to strike. Every time there might be a trap waiting. Every time they might not make it. And every time, Blaster wished them all the best.

* * *

Chaos strode through the container hospital/camp outside what had once been Nebulos City, the brightest and biggest city on this small planet, the one rebuilt after The Hive had been driven off. Now the city was a wasteland, the buildings destroyed, stone molten by the incredible heat of the bombings. The ER, at least what she thought of as an ER, was crowded. A new load of patients had arrived just this morning, among them some of her friends, those who had gone out to help where help was needed. No one was safe from the contamination, not even the medical personnel. ER was the biggest of all containers where patients were checked, given pain killers, food, water and then assigned to other containers.   
"Oh, geez!"   
The exclamation came from a figure following her. It was a human, clad in an exo-suit which had been specially designed by the Technobots for this occasion, something Chaos had fought. She hated visitors. She hated spectators. And this spectator was in danger of contracting the same sickness, to get contaminated, if there was so much as one breach of the suit. Of course, short exposure didn't mean that the victim would spread the contamination if he or she left again, but it meant his or her death. Spike had been transferred back to Earth after the contamination and no one else had been infected, which might also be because he was human not Nebulan. The virus had been specially engineered to hit only Nebulans and that it also attacked humans was a side-effect, one the Tji probably hadn't anticipated but surely didn't mind. Nebulans spread the contamination; humans were only dying when infected, not spreading. But Chaos hated taking risks like these.   
"Please wait here," she told the human whose name was Harry Simms. He was some mediator from Evans Mining Co. Evans had not been able to get his men off the planet, but he had been allowed to send someone who would see with his own eyes what was happening.   
Evans didn't believe that his team of infiltrators had been infected. He thought they were being held hostage. He couldn't be charged for what he had done -- his lawyers were much too good -- but he could send in someone to check. So Simms had made his entrance.   
"I'll you when the patients are all registered and settled in Quarantine."   
Simms nodded and watched the tall, red robot walk over to where most of the victims were clustered. He stood at the door leading from the office to the main ER area and watched the bustle of nurses and doctors. Simms was a doctor himself and had been employed by Evans several years ago for employee physical evaluation. When he had been sent here by his boss he had been given a vague idea what to expect. It hadn't even scratched the surface of the truth! Even from above, while the Autobot called SkyLynx had landed, he had seen the terrible destruction all around him. And while he had been lead to the main container, he had seen the infected Nebulans. They came in at all hours.   
"Try filter number three ...."   
"He is early stage one. Get him over to six or eight. Check which one has empty beds...."   
"Severe burns...."   
"Malnutrition and stage one symptoms. Get him to Dr. Jhanna......."   
Simms shook his head as he watched the Nebulans work, distributing patients to various parts of the container homes. Suddenly one of the female doctors came over to him, giving him a curious look. She looked thin, fragile, her hair streaked with white. The skin looked a sickly gray-green and her eyes showed extreme exhaustion.   
"You are Dr. Simms?" she asked.   
He nodded.   
"My name is Trciza, assistant to Chaos. Do you have any training in xeno-biology?"   
Simms was surprised. It was an open question and he found himself nodding.   
"We need all the help we can," the female went on. "Care to join us?"   
"Uhm, okay, but I've just arrived and I have never treated a contamination victim before..... Looks like there are more coming in by the minute."   
Trciza nodded. "Yes. I don't want you to diagnose contamination victims, I want you to help with those who have been wounded, broke bones or collapsed. Our equipment is rather mediocre and we have few supplies, though a shipment should be coming in soon. Tell the nurses what you need them to administer to the patient. If something is not available, they tell you what we have instead. Go with the flow."   
Simms nodded, too surprised that he was asked to help. Trciza lead him over to the ER area. Soon he found himself up to his armpits in work and he learned more about what had happened here than what had been in the meager briefing.

* * *

Ambassador Adam 'Spike' Witwicky arrived on Cybertron on a special, private flight. Labyrinth touched down and opened the passenger doors. He was rather large for what looked like an attack fighter, but Spike didn't really think about it. His mind was inevitably drawn to what had happened on Earth and the latest news. His wife, Carly followed him, her face paler than usual, hard lines around her eyes and mouth. She had suffered with her husband and she was still suffering. Carly had not contracted the viral contamination, but she had accompanied Spike through all his treatments, all the ups and downs, and it was eating at her. She knew that this visit might be the last chance for him and she was hoping.   
Prior to departure, Spike had had a long talk with his doctor, Dr. McGregor, who had been the family physician -- well, in a way -- for a long time now. He had surgically implanted Daniel's exo-skeleton and he had also started the cybernetics treatment on Spike. He knew everything there was to know about the ambassador's health condition and that was why they had had this conversation.   


"We have arrived at a point where I am reluctant to continue," McGregor said and looked calmly at him.   
"Why?" Spike asked openly.   
"I think you know why, ambassador. You can feel it, can't you? You are starting to suffer from sensory deprivation and it affects your mind. You cybernetic parts are no longer as sensitive to everything as your flesh-and-blood hands or feet. We tuned down everything, so you don't have any extraordinary strength, but we can't replicate the whole nervous system."   
Spike nodded. He knew what McGregor meant. He had experienced it and he knew that the deprivation would continue. His mind was already playing tricks on him and he felt phantom pains though there was no real hand to feel pain from. Sometimes he even lost all sensory perception of one cybernetic part of other, and it began to affect him greatly.   
"So you want to stop the treatment?" he wanted to know.   
"No, I want to stop for now. You are not showing progressing symptoms from the contamination and everything is working perfectly. I want to wait until there is a need again and I want to research what we might need to change. I know about your past experiences, ambassador, and I don't want you to slip into shock or evoke a catatonic reaction."   
"I understand."   


And then he had received the call from Kyle Scott. The news about this thing called 'Protogen' had been surprising and he had found himself agreeing to consider it another option. He had closely followed the progress First Aid and Disaster had made and he had talked to Kyle. And he began to trust in this procedure.   
So they had come here.   
Dr. McGregor would arrive in a few days to watch and learn, as he had put it, and also to help with the treatment as best as he could.   
"Spike! Carly!"   
Spike smiled openly as he saw Shanygn coming to meet them. She had called them several times in the last days and before she had had to return to Cybertron she had also spent a lot of time helping Carly or him. He appreciated the alien woman's help. She was a friend of the family and she was a person who really understood, who shared the same fate in a way. She still had all her original body parts, but her body could only move because of a large net of implants and a partly visible exo-skeleton.   
"Hi, Shan."   
She hugged them both. "Welcome to Cybertron."   
"Thanks."   
They walked along the official walkways to the guest quarters of South Port and Shanygn filled them in on a few of the latest developments. Spike was immediately interested in the offered tour to West Central. He had yet to see the new base.   
"Kyle also wants to talk to you," Shan continued. "He said he wanted to go over a few things and then give you the med bay tour."   
He nodded. "Sure."   
"You have quarters on the same level as the Interfaces. Rodimus said he could get you an outside apartment if you wanted to."   
Carly shook her head. "No, inside South Port is fine." In case something happens, she seemed to add without saying it.   
Shanygn nodded. She led them to their apartment, one of the larger quarters on the level. Few humans had a whole apartment, except for those who had their family on Cybertron as well. The Interfaces were all not married and generally had either one or two rooms and a bathroom.   
"Kyle said to call him when you are ready," she said. "And I'm also just a phone call away." She smiled. "You know I'm always there."   
Spike nodded. "Thank you," he said softly and he meant it.

* * *

The attack came out of the blue and it was as quick as it was vicious. The Tji strike force fell over the unexpecting Counterstrike team blasting at whatever was moving. Fireflight returned the heavy fire, but he knew they had no chance. They didn't have any back-up and the Tji were able to take more than any other robot. They advanced steadily. One of the attackers came too close and Fireflight felt the hot burn of the blast scorching his chest and taking off the first layer of skin. He fired volley after volley at the advancing Tji, whose shell body soon looked like a crater field.   
Something exploded close by.   
Fireflight was thrown aside, connecting had with an unyielding object. He looked around and discovered one of the many energy towers burning brightly and slowly toppling over. The second the tower hit the ground, a chain reaction set in. The energon vein beneath the planet's surface broke free, the burning tower ignited it and a giant explosion ripped open the ground. More explosions followed.   
Fireflight quickly got to his feet and started to run. He knew he had to get out of here. Out of the corners of his optics he saw Blitzwing, running away as well. Both transformed into their aerial modes and took off.   
But it was too late.   
A mushroom cloud of energon blew into the sky, the shockwave hitting them.   
Fireflight lost control of his flight vector, as did Blitzwing. They had no idea whether they were going up or down.   
Everything blurred.   
Everything went dark.

* * *

For Antashcco the attack had gone well until one of his troops had set off the energon explosion. The plan had been so perfect: lure the Cybertronian strike team into their trap and then hit them with everything they had. Still, the two Cybertronians had proven to be quite a problem for them and the ensuing battle had not only taken out three Tji body shells, but also half the mining field on the planet -- one of the Tji supply mines. The shockwave from the energon explosion had hit Antashcco as well and nearly ripped him apart, destroying his body shell, which had already suffered a lot through the fighting. Now he was back aboard his ship and recovering from the blow.   
Well, at least the two Cybertronians were either dead or dying. They had crashed back onto the planet and an earthquake had nearly buried them. Life signs were weak and decreasing.   
They had won.   
That would keep those meddling robots busy until Ath'antheia was ready to hit the Cybertron.

* * *

"Gotcha!"   
Disaster smiled in satisfaction as he watched the tiny ants flow over the Protogen super-structure and replicate human skin. All sensors were in the green area, showing that there were faults, no errors, no problems. In front of him lay a perfect replica of a human body's look.   
"Good work," someone at his side said.   
Disaster looked down and into the smiling face of Jill McKennan. The white-haired woman looked pleased.   
"Thanks. Now we only have to test the whole motion control stuff," the scientist answered with a sigh. "No use if it looks pretty from the outside but can't walk a step."   
Jill nodded. "No problem. Say, how do you want to control the final looks of the Protogen?"   
Disaster keyed in several commands and ran a diagnostic on the motion controls. "Easy. We let the new mind do it."   
"You mean Spike chooses his look?"   
"In a way. His consciousness is in the energy bubble which the Veneran apparently call 'spark', as far as I discovered in the files. And the spark is connected to the ants. It will be subconscious and it will lock down after the final command. When we transfer the mind we'll monitor the adjustments, then lock down the sequence." Disaster shrugged. "I don't want him to accidentally change himself all the time."   
"I understand. Did you make a dry run with it?"   
"Not yet. Problem is, I'm not sure if the Protogen spark accepts a second transfer of a totally different mind."   
Jill frowned. "It's dangerous to let it go untested."   
"I know. But we only have this one Protogen form ready now. You know how long it took us to cobble the basics together and how many failures occurred." Disaster looked at her, his expression very serious. "We have only this one go."   
"I understand. Let's hope it works."   
"Yeah....."

* * *

"We lost contact to CS Seven."   
"What?!" Megatron stared at Soundwave and then at the screen, which told him nothing to the contrary. CS Seven had not answered the latest communications attempts after they had been missing for too long. Their mission should have been completed two days ago but no one had heard of them.   
"None of the tracers is on-line," Soundwave added.   
"Check again!" the Decepticon leader ordered.   
"I already did. The results are the same."   
Sparks winced as Megatron glared at the screen, then got himself under control again. "Which is the closest team?" he asked, his voice calm.   
"CS Three, Divebomb and Chromia," Soundwave answered dutifully.   
"Send them in. All precautions. We don't know what happened."   
With that he turned on his heels and left the Com Center. Cyclonus, who had returned earlier the day, nodded at Sparks. She nodded back and jumped off the table she had been sitting on. Megatron needed some watching.

* * *

Dr. Harry Simms sank back on a chair and closed his eyes, feeling exhausted in body and mind. Around him, the buzz never ended. Patients came in, nurses and doctors worked, sometimes bodies were discretely removed. Patients walked, hobbled or stumbled through this controlled chaos, looking either for help, food, water or simply a place to have some peace. Outside a storm had come up, howling around the containers and rattling them, though this noise was almost lost by the decibel level in here.   
"Seen enough?"   
He looked up and into the haggard face of Trciza. He had found out that she was a doctor and suffering from late stage one symptoms, probably soon going into stage two and unable to perform her functions anymore. She was no longer operating, only helping out as long as her weakening body allowed her to and he had seen how she had had to take frequent rests.   
"I think yes," Simms answered softly. "No one ever told me.... I mean, I was briefed, but...."   
"You were briefed by those who want to see you sign a statement that gets their people off Nebulos," Trciza said coldly. "And I think you believe me now if I tell you there is no chance in hell that they will. We can't allow it. All these people in here," she gestured widely, "were not in the immediate area of the bombings. They were infected later!"   
"Where is the Evans team?" he asked softly.   
"Another container. Sorry we had to occupy you here."   
Simms shook his head. "No, it's okay. It gave me the best insight in what has happened."   
"Come with me, I'll show you the way," the Nebulan woman now offered.   
Simms rose and felt exhaustion swamp him again. He'd have to get a lie-down soon.   
Trciza lead him through the connection tubes between the containers and through the semi-transparent walls he saw trucks moving in and out, people getting off, Cybertronians coming to aid them, carrying or leading them over to the ER and handing them over into the care of the Nebulans.   
"Here we are," she announced and stepped into the container.   
Simms saw it was no different from all the others. Well, maybe in size because it also contained a treatment facility for the Cybertronians, but otherwise it was just another med bay. Inhaling deeply he walked over to the group of humans, some sitting on their beds, others lying down, again others not even responding to his approach.   
He felt so sick and tired, and he had been here for only a day.   
How did the others feel? Those who were confronted with the victims all day?   
Simms briefly closed his eyes, then straightened and did what he had been sent here for by his boss: evaluate the Evans team's health condition.

* * *

She was standing in a desolate looking place, all gray in gray. The ceiling above her was black, streaked with orange and yellow. The streaks were strange plants, something Beachcomber would probably have loved to examine, and there were also cobwebs hanging around. Stalactites grew to the floor, meeting with the stalagmites coming from the ground. There were twisted trees and bushes clinging to the ground and a thin mist covered parts of the floor she stood on.   
"Wow!" Overload breathed at her side. "This is neat!"   
"You have to get your taste checked, Hotbot," Calamity said, shaking her head. "This looks worse than every other place I've seen in my life. And I've seen a lot!"   
Overload grinned. "Yeah, right, but all those places were on Cybertron."   
Calamity grimaced. "You have no idea what kind of places you can find there. Now cut the small talk and lets find this fuel depot."   
They walked off into the tunnel, Cal holding a detection device. It blinked noiselessly, telling them where to go. Their mission was rather easy. This world was both dead and on no respectable map in the universe, which made it a perfect place for a Tji depot. Soundwave had hunted down these lonely and dead planets, then checked each and every one for Tji activity. This one had seen some ships coming and going in the last years, so there had to be something here. Their mission was to blow the joint and get out in one piece.   
Suddenly the tunnel was at an end and they stood in a gigantic cavernous room. The room stretched endlessly to the left and right, bending a bit. A wave of hot air brushed passed them. The planet was close to its sun and undermined with a maze of tunnels and caves. There was even life on this dead rock, though Overload had no idea how anything could survive here. It wasn't that a hellish world like this could sustain a flourishing fauna and flora, but a few animals had apparently developed here and survived. Still, the planet was dead.   
In the giant room stood several large barrels, all marked with 'Danger' signs in different languages. All stolen goods, Cal suspected.   
"Bingo," Overload whispered.   
"Security check!" the female Decepticon ordered.   
Overload began checking for hidden weapons, defenses and other nasties. They found some of the basic perimeter defenses and disarmed them professionally, bridge-wired some explosives and took out the stun guns. Now they had a free field of operations.   
"Let's do it," Cal said and moved in, already getting out the explosive devices.   
Overload followed. From the amount of explosives they had, the depot would go high and far, probably taking a part of the planet with it. He grinned. Well, that would be a nice 'kaboom' to watch, though they would probably be gone by the time this depot went.

* * *

Spike stepped into the med bay, a room he had seen so many times in his life that he had started to hate it in a way. He had been examined, treated, had spent long times in a sick bed, had been wheeled from one surgery to the next, and examined again. Spike knew most of the medical instruments, could name their functions and recite his health status, every operation, what it had changed or cured, and rattle off every diagnosis ever given.   
"Okay, ambassador, here we are." Kyle smiled. "But I guess you know this facility better than I do."   
Spike chuckled. "Yeah, in a way."   
"All right, since you will spend enough time in here soon, let's cut the tour short. I'll introduce you to the Protogen and then we go on with something else."   
Spike nodded. Kyle lead him over to a separate lab away from the main med bay area and Spike followed. Inside the lab, which was larger than it looked from outside, was only Disaster. The Decepticon scientist and member of the only male/female Autobot-Decepticon combiner team was a regular in med bay. Since he had resurfaced, he had first spent some time readjusting to the world 'Above', then had turned his talents over to med bay. First Aid appreciated his help and his knowledge, which was deeper than anyone might suspect.   
"Hello, ambassador," Disaster now greeted him and smiled down at the smaller human.   
"Hi, Disaster. Nice seeing you again. Come for a little sight-seeing?"   
Spike grinned. "In a way."   
"Then let me show Protogen to you."   
Kyle and Spike followed Disaster over to a table.   
"How much do you know about Protogen?" Kyle asked.   
Spike shrugged. "Only what you told me. The basics and how it is supposed to work."   
Disaster chuckled a bit. "Well, it's no longer a 'supposed'. We know how it works now. And there it is." He lifted Spike and Kyle up on the Cybertronian-sized table.   
Spike looked at the humanoid looking form. It was of a dull gray, metallic color and the skin seemed to fluctuate slightly, rippling. Wires ran into the chest area where something called 'spark' was located. The Protogen form lay encased in a net of wires attached to different parts of its body and only one arm was currently closed with skin. On the metal skin the ants were busy.   
Disaster opened the chest area and Spike looked inside. "The spark," the Decepticon explained.   
It looked like a student's chemistry experiment: molecule balls attached to one another, pulsating slowly, Spike decided. The color was not gray, it was a soft pink with a faint gray line at the edges. The spark was connected to a net of more wires criss-crossing through the body.   
"I know it looks kinda ... strange," Disaster told his soon-to-be patient. "But it won't be any different from your current looks the moment the ants have their information from your mind."   
Spike nodded and touched the strange, rippling skin. It was soft, like human skin, though not of the same color, and there was no robotic feel to it.   
"They replicate everything?" he asked quietly.   
Kyle nodded. "Skin, hair, nails .... all."   
"I can give you all of our files on Protogen if you'd like," Disaster offered. "I don't want any secrets between us. It is your life and a great risk, I won't make any secret of that, ambassador."   
"Thank you."   
Disaster put the two humans down again. As they went back to the waiting area of med bay, which was mostly empty, they discovered Shanygn. She smiled at her friends.   
"Ready for the grand tour?" she asked cheerfully.   
"As ready as I ever be," he replied.   
Shanygn took his arm and they left. Kyle watched them and a sigh escaped his lips. He hoped this would work out. He really hoped so.

* * *

Divebomb and Chromia arrived in the target area a day after they had been given the coordinates. They had had to be careful in coming here and had taken a few evasive routes before finally steering their fighter to the planet that had been Fireflight and Blitzwing's target.   
Everything was deserted.   
Chromia ran a complete scan of the area before giving a green light. "No enemy movements," she reported.   
Divebomb looked through the view screen, optics narrowed. "I don't like it."   
"Me neither, but the scanners don't pick anything up. Long range is the same."   
"The planet?"   
"Dead. No movement."   
Divebomb frowned. "I'll take a look around. Cover me."   
"Roger that. Be careful."   
The Predacon gave a humorless grin. Both of them had grown into a team since they had been thrown together by whoever had done the team-ups and they had learned to set aside any prejudice they had. Divebomb had never been on any mission alone -- without any of his Predacon comrades -- but he had adjusted incredibly fast. Now he left the fighter, transformed and flew toward the planet. Chromia moved the shuttle into a position where she could keep an eye on the planet and on what might be lurking in space. All scanners were up on full and she didn't divert her attention from the read-outs for a minute.

An hour later a call came in.   
Divebomb had found their missing team members. Chromia felt a distant pain as he reported their condition. She guided the ship toward the planet and readied the stasis unit for the worst case: Blitzwing.

* * *

Midnight was on Alean. He had come here to get away from it all, to get some distance, but it was no use. Even here he was reminded of the war going on, of the madness .... of the Tji. How he hated this race! How he despised it! Each and every one of them, including the Veneran. They had created them, they had played with them, had run experiments, and then thrown those away who had failed. And their creations had been alive and conscious at the time, dying slowly, painfully..... aware. Midnight clenched his hands into fists. The same pain ran through him every time he thought of it, as if he had been there. He had hoped that the Tji were nothing but the bad guys, but they were simply a part of a race who had played with sentient life forms to achieve their petty goals: creating a robotic form for themselves, a partner who would be able to carry them without getting killed.   
Yeah, right!   
Midnight had seen the truth behind this simple statement. The Veneran and Tji, who had been one race once, had only told them the surface truth, what they wanted them to know. But Jaimaa had handed him the key to the whole truth and he knew it now. The hatred ran deep and the pain was ever-present, especially for him. Midnight was a Sleeper, a special project, a robot who had been given whatever experimental power the Veneran/Tji had thought of. And he had survived while the other Sleepers had died. He had killed some of them, the last surviving ones, himself as he had blown up the lab. They had been dead anyway, held in stasis, their own weapons turned against them, killing them. It had been a merciful death, though he had hated himself for doing it.   
The Sentinel leader sighed deeply and turned away from watching the snow covered landscape. He was aware of someone close by and turned. It was a maybe seven feet tall, robotic looking humanoid figure. He knew him. Steven Parker, his Interface partner, dressed in his exo-suit.   
I thought Winterhawk had banished you to your quarters for some sleep >> Midnight sent through their telepathic link.   
I woke >>   
Steve sounded exhausted and Midnight knew he looked bad. What had happened to him because of Midnight's single-mindedness, his anger, had left its traces. He had had to take painkillers to shut out the anger coming through their Interface link and he had nearly had a breakdown because of it. Their relationship was slightly strained now and Midnight felt extremely bad about it as well. He needed to spend some time with his partner, talk, listen, heal the wounds. He needed to heal his own wounds as well.   
"Listen ..... I ...." He shook his head, feeling stupid. "Steve, I'm so sorry about it all!"   
"You already apologized," Steve told him.   
"I know, but .... I hurt you so much. You still suffer.... I suffer..." he added in a whisper.   
He felt Steve touch his mind carefully. The link was so fragile right now, neither of them fully connecting in fear the other would break.   
Too much happened >> he whispered. I understand >>   
You understand, but it doesn't excuse my behavior! >> Midnight fell down on his knees and looked at the still smaller human in the exo-suit. "I nearly destroyed us and it is nothing to be handled lightly," he whispered. "I can't go on hating, Steve. I can't go on blaming. I just can't.... too much depends on what I do..... It affects the Council, it affects my people, it affects you."   
"I think they all understand."   
The wind picked up around them and Steve knew that another blizzard would come in soon. Winter on Alean was no fun and the planet's wild nature was nothing to underestimate. He didn't feel the cold because of the exo-suit and neither did Midnight, but getting trapped out here was not recommended anyway.   
"Maybe. But not really. They know my past, they know my temper, but they don't know the truth! I know it, I read it! And those who know it as well are the Council......." Midnight stared at the ground. "It's a burden that is getting so heavy.... knowing it all .... unable to share it."   
And Steve shared this burden. "I know," he said softly. "But we can't tell. We just can't....."   
Midnight sighed deeply again. "And I can't stop hating...."   
"The Veneran."   
"And the Tji. Both. Every time I see one of the Venerakkin I think of the files .... of the deaths ... of the experiments. And my hatred ignites again." He rubbed his forehead. "Gods, Steve, they are our allies in a way, though they have yet to show their good intent.... but I can't see anything but ruthless killers in them! That's no way for a leader to think!"   
A small voice inside Midnight told him that he was behaving exactly like Kup and other first-generation Autobots had when they had heard about the return of the Sentinels. They had hated their guts, they had despised them, had wanted to see them dead. And now he was falling for the same trap and he wasn't even fighting it.   
Steve walked over to the kneeling robot through the deep snow and gently touched his mind again. Leaders are no different from everyone else. Don't you think Optimus or Rodimus hate as well? Or Tornado? I won't mention Megatron because he is always running on hatred >>   
Midnight smiled a bit at that remark. But neither ever flipped like I did>>   
You had the right to >>   
I endangered you! I nearly killed you!>>   
"Mid, stop that!" Steve told him forcefully. "We went through too much to revert to this! This is a partnership! We both have our ups and downs! We both stumble and sometimes we fall, but that doesn't mean we have to stay down!" He stared into the dimmed green visor. "We've been partners for so long, Midnight. We support each other, we trust each other .... and now we have to heal together."   
The Sentinel leader smiled a bit. "I know."   
The wind got stronger and snow was blown over the plains. The sky had grown darker and it was time to get back to the base. Midnight intended to stay on Alean a bit longer, give them both some time away..... watch from a distance before they had to get involved full force again, before reality hit.   
"Let's go," he said and rose to his feet.   
Steve phased into him and Midnight smiled. He had missed his partner who was so much a part of him. No outsider would eve be able to understand this; no one could imagine what an Interface partnership meant. Many thought it was alien and disgusting, but for Midnight it had meant survival, a second chance and discovering himself.   
He transformed and shot off into the increasingly stormy sky.

* * *

The call had come in earlier the day and Megatron had not lost a minute. He had taken a shuttle to meet with the Decepticon flagship, the Apocalypse. As he closed the distance the giant ship seemed to grow even more in size. The Apocalypse was an impressive sight and since it was still 'under construction' it was changing on a daily basis, though mostly inside. The dark blue skin was barely visible against the darkness of space and when the flagship went into camouflage mode it was truly invisible. Camouflage worked only for a few hours, then the generators would give under the stress of the power output necessary to sustain the heavy cloak. But it would give them an advantage if needed.   
Megatron steered the shuttle toward the hangar bays and then turned the controls over to the Apocalypse. The controller guided him in smoothly.   
"Systems locked down. Shuttle thrusters off," a computer voice announced.   
The Decepticon leader left his seat and then the shuttle. He was already expected by Shockwave, the commander of the Apocalypse.   
"Welcome aboard, mighty Megatron," he greeted him.   
"Report," Megatron ordered without acknowledging the greeting.   
"We picked up a coded call from CS Three, relaying a call for immediate medical assistance. I sent out a scout ship and it met up with CS Three's shuttle. They had found CS Seven, but both were heavily damaged. At the time, Blitzwing was in stasis and Fireflight hooked up to a massive energon feed, but still dying. Currently, both are in med bay under heavy sedation. Repairs are proceeding, but it will take some time. Their bodies were almost ripped apart and the central units as well as he cores, sustained damage beyond immediate first aid. I estimate it will take another day or two for their systems to go on-line."   
The walked down the corridor and passed several crew members. The nodded at Megatron. The Apocalypse was running on a minimum crew with maximum armament and firepower. Like its sister ship, the Monolith, it was controlled by several, separately operating computer systems which all ran together on the bridge. If the bridge was taken out it was able to continue its mission nevertheless.   
"I want a report from CS Three in ten standard minutes!" Megatron ordered. "And get either Fireflight or Blitzwing operational long enough to find out what went wrong!"   
"Yes, mighty Megatron."   
Megatron walked onto the bridge and ignored the acknowledgments from the crew. He simply went over to a separate booth-like office from where he could keep a view of the bridge but also had his privacy. He patched himself into the computer network of the flagship and accessed the reports Shockwave had already relayed to him.

* * *

A week had passed.   
Sparks sat in the empty office and looked around. It wasn't only empty, it felt empty on top of it, missing a vital part: the owner. She let her eyes linger on the empty chair behind the desk and sighed.   
Damn this pet program! she cursed silently. She would never be able to become an independent person with this pet side inside of her! Now she was already beginning to miss her 'owner' and it nauseated her. Megatron had left Cybertron a week ago, meeting up with Shockwave on the Apocalypse which had picked up the severely damaged CS Seven team. He had told her to stay here and for the first time she had found that it was better to leave him alone. He needed this time away and she had her own plans. She needed to talk to Sphere.   
Well, she decided a minute later. I don't miss him with my pet side. I miss him with my personality side. Gods, what has happened to me?   
The answer was as simply as it was frightening: she was fond of Megatron and she truly liked him.   
Eee-yuck! part of her thought; the part which usually mouthed off to the Decepticon leader and which always taunted him and tried to drive him crazy. But the other part, the one which cared and which was a very compassionate personality, was deeply worried about him. Megatron and Sphere need to work this one out and it would destroy them both if they didn't. Both needed someone to help the other, Sphere maybe more than Megatron, but he was not about to make the first step. The mighty Megatron, she thought, is not about to confess he wanted Sphere to trust him. And Sphere is too hurt and branded by what happened to her to see what is going on around her!   
Sparks sighed deeply again, feeling very much alone in the empty office. She was a people person, though sometimes she liked to stalk alone. But never for long.   
Someone entered the office and she looked up, not even hissing at the intruder into 'her' territory. The intruder was Cyclonus. The Decepticon second-in-command looked at her and nodded to himself.   
"Raven said I'd find you here," he said.   
"So?" she muttered.   
"She thought you might want to get out and among people again."   
Sparks snorted and curled into a tight ball. "No, thanks."   
"You'd rather wallow in miserable sadness alone," he said.   
Sparks shot him a narrow-eyed, slightly amused look. "Since when did you develop a sense of humor, Cyclonus?"   
He walked over and looked down on her. "Since it was necessary to survive against you, cat."   
She snorted again, eyes sparkling a bit. "If you don't mind, I'd rather stay here and 'wallow' a bit more, okay?"   
He shrugged and then left again.   
When the door had closed after the Decepticon, Sparks curled up tightly again and closed her eyes. She needed time to think, to make up a plan: how to talk to Sphere.

Two hours later she was on her way to the doorway chamber deep inside Cybertron.

* * *

Spike was standing outside South Port and looked up into the star-speckled sky. He had just received his schedule and he was due for a first examination tomorrow. From then on, everything would be running its way.   
"Doubts?" Carly asked softly and joined him.   
He laid an arm around her and held her close. "Some. Not many."   
"And you are entitled to it."   
"I should be past those dark thoughts, those doubts," he whispered. "I went through the cybernetics treatment and I know what is ahead of me."   
She shook her head. "Not really. This is new again."   
He kissed her head. "Maybe."   
They stood together for some time, Spike deep in thought. If he went through with this it would change his life profoundly. He'd be in a robotic body, though not one that could be compared to a Cybertronian's. Even his mind would be no longer organic. But the worst of all would be the change to his family life. There would be no difference between his old and his new body in intimate matters, but he no longer aged -- while Carly would grow old and die one day.   
Spike closed his eyes and held his wife tightly. They had talked about it and she had refused. Maybe .... maybe in the future, she would undergo the same treatment. Just maybe.   
There was always hope.

* * *

Shanygn sat on her couch, pillows stuffed behind her back, dressed in a woolen sweater that was three sizes too large, a handy box of tissues close by. Sniffling to herself, a crumbled tissue in one hand, she read through a thick folder, now and then making side notes. Someone knocked carefully on the door and she looked up, her eyes narrowing as she discovered who her visitor was.   
"If it isn't the virus mothership," she remarked dryly.   
Nicholas Cavanaugh smiled brightly. "Hi, Shan. How are you?"   
She gave him one of her best glares, but it bounced off him with no harm done. She was probably losing her touch, which wasn't a big surprise since her eyes were watery and red-rimmed.   
"You know how I am, Nicholas," she told him acidly.   
The dark-haired man approached the couch like one would a mine field and it was a good comparison. It had all started about ten days ago. Nicholas had been to Alean, the planet of the Sentinels, and had returned with the mother of all colds. It was winter on Alean and the human had somehow managed to catch a cold, though he had spent as little time as possible outside in the gales and hurricanes, though working in the frigid hangar had not helped. And there had been the fact that he had worked himself into exhaustion with the sabotages at West Central, so his immune system had been easily overrun. Shanygn had sighed as she had found out that he had contracted a vicious cold and had settled on helping Nicholas through the first terrible days. And they had been terrible. For Shanygn.   
Like almost every male person she had ever met and who she had ever seen fall ill with some minor sickness, Nicholas had been inclined to play up his cold. He had been suffering; truly and terribly. Shanygn had thought he had had contracted a deadly disease. Playing along she had taken care of the only person who had ever managed to approach her on a level that was more than friendship and now this was the reward. She had the cold herself. Unlike Nicholas, though, she was not inclined to lie back and suffer. She had been in the middle of a project and she didn't want to give it up, though her access to all lab facilities was closed until the viral strains were gone and she had to stay in her quarters most of the time. She didn't mind.   
Kyle Scott had given her some medication to battle the headaches and general nausea, as well as the rough throat, but she had told him 'no antibiotics' in no uncertain words. If she started taking stuff like that she'd end up with another problem: Rodimus. Nicholas had been pumped full of medication to help his body battle the tiny invaders and it had resulted in Tornado suddenly displaying the same symptoms as his Interface partner, mainly because Nick's shields had gone down. Both were not 100% Interfaced, so it was not so bad -- though Tornado was still glaring daggers at Nick every time someone mentioned the episode with the door he had walked into twice before realizing it was locked and wouldn't open automatically.   
With Rodimus and Shanygn, such a dropping of shields would be even more catastrophic. They were as closely Interfaced as was possible and Rodimus would go through the same haze as Shanygn in her antibiotic stupor if she dropped her shields. Right now she was in control of them, but only because she was not drugged to the hilt with something that gave her a relaxed feeling and let her ignore the rest of the world as such. Even now she had to sometimes strengthen those barriers that Rodimus wouldn't experience sudden itches to sneeze or cough for no reason.   
"What do you want?" she now asked.   
"Uhm ...... dinner?"   
Shanygn smiled a bit. Their relationship was a curious one and one she appreciated for many reasons. It had started out some time ago, when Nicholas had gotten all his courage together and approached her, and Shanygn had agreed to at least try it. She had been reluctant, even afraid, but she had agreed. Nothing serious had yet happened, mainly because of Shanygn's past, which let her shove every male contact away. She recoiled from a man's touch if it wasn't for medical reasons, like a check-up. Nicholas respected it and he knew he had to approach the subject carefully or he would lose her again. Shanygn was willing to let this relationship grow, to try and get her experiences of the past proven wrong, but she couldn't handle the physical aspect of this all -- yet. Nicholas knew he could and would wait. Both of them were Interfaced and both had all the time in the world to grow accustomed to each other.   
Shanygn appreciated it all even more because he was so patient with her.   
"Want your virus back?" she now asked.   
Nicholas sat down at the foot of the couch and grinned. "Nope. And you are almost well again."   
As if to disprove this, Shanygn sneezed and then sniffled. "Yeah, right," she muttered, the tissue muffling her voice.   
Nicholas shrugged. "Hey, you don't have to leave your quarters. You haven't been out in a long time and sitting in this stuffy room doesn't really..." He stopped as she glared again.   
"Because of your nice little present of ever-thankfulness," she told him darkly, "I'm stuck here. I've been working with Spike and Carly and now Kyle won't let me near Spike because of the danger of an infection!"   
Nicholas' looked kind of stricken. Shanygn had been spending a lot time with the Witwickys, helping them deal with what the transfer into the Protogen body would mean. She wasn't a psychologist, she wasn't a medic, but she was a friend of the family and had been so for more than twenty-five years now. They trusted her and she had been the best choice and the closest friend to spend the preparation time with Spike. And now she was truly stuck here, not even allowed close in a full encounter-suit, which she had declined anyway.   
"Oh," he sighed. "Uhm, sorry....."   
Shanygn kicked him lightly with a sock-covered foot. "Hey, listen, I didn't mean to blame you," she said softly. "It's not your fault. Blame this on my headache. I'm getting moody again."   
He raised an eyebrow. "Never would have guessed...."   
"Oh, you!" The next kick was harder.   
"Listen, if I can help...?"   
Shanygn shook her head. "They won't let you close to Spike either. I mostly do vid phone calls right now." She sneezed again and grabbed for another tissue. "If you don't mind me sneezing the evening away, then dinner it is. But I'll reinfect you for sure if you even dare to do something like chicken soup!"   
Nicholas held up both hands! "Never crossed my mind!"   
"Uh-huh!"   
He chuckled and got up, his eyes turning a gentle grey as he looked down at her. "See you in a few hours....?"   
She smiled back. "Yeah."   
[Okay, so what's cooking?]   
[Roddy!!]   
Rodimus Prime chuckled softly in her mind.   
[You were eavesdropping!] she accused him as she watched Nicholas leave.   
[Hey, payback is a bitch!]   
Shanygn gave an annoyed growl. [I never did it on purpose!]   
[Right!]   
She slammed up her shields, kicking him out in a rather gentle manner, but his amusement still rang inside her mind. Of course he had eavesdropped! Rodimus had been pushing her gently toward this relationship, giving her a few shoves along the way, and she had to really thank him for it. She might still be evading Nicholas if he hadn't nearly carried her the rest of the way. That their relationship was still platonic didn't bother her partner. His priority had been to get the two Interfaces to meet and for Shanygn to realize that there was more to a relationship with a male person than pain and humiliation. He had succeeded and she was grateful for the shoves.   
Turning her attention back to the folder she continued reading the last chapter, though her mind was inexplicably drawn to other things.

* * *

Tornado was on Cybertron, mainly because of Nicholas' cold. They had come back from Alean a day before they had both been hit by the cold and since he couldn't even fly straight, Tornado had decided to stay a while. Mernan didn't need him and everything was running smoothly. Being back on the planet of his birth brought back memories and not all of them were pleasant. He felt Nicholas' presence close by, softly inquiring what was wrong, but he was trying to keep his personal thoughts personal. Nicholas knew a few things about Seekers, mainly those he had 'read' when they had phased, but he had yet to learn of Tornado's role in the experiments Braintrust had run. He didn't know that Tornado had assisted in killing those innocents and that he had never felt any regrets, that he had never rebelled against his programming.   
The Seeker leader was so much in thought that he nearly ran into Phoenix, who was standing in front of his quarters. The dark red and golden female grinned as he stopped just inches in front of her, his silver optics blinking in confusion.   
"Which level are you on?" she joked.   
He sighed. "Just thinking."   
"Dangerous habit."   
He smiled half-heartedly. "Something the matter?"   
Phoenix followed him into his quarters. "No, not really. I just thought I'd drop by before leaving for Mernan again." She tilted her head and gave him a look. "What is wrong, Tornado?"   
Tornado rubbed his optics and leaned back against the desk. "Nothing a bit more exposure won't cure."   
"Memories." It wasn't a question.   
"Yes."   
"Bad ones. Your past." It was as if she was reading his mind, and maybe she was. They knew each other for millennia now and she had risen to his second-in-command since Tornado had become the Seeker leader. It was a more or less unofficial position, just like Tornado had never been officially appointed the leader of the last surviving Seekers, but everyone accepted her.   
"Yes."   
"And you are worried about what?" she prodded.   
"Nick."   
"Ah." Phoenix joined him, leaning against the desk as well. "You are afraid he will hate you because of what you did." Another statement.   
"Yes."   
"You are partners," she said. "He knows a lot about you and he knows about our past, the past of the Seekers. He knows it and he will understand."   
"He will know I'm a cold-blooded killer," Tornado whispered.   
She touched his arm. "No, you are not. None of us is. Don't you think I didn't do my share to help Braintrust achieve those mad goals? I did it to survive because if I had rebelled, he would have scrapped me. He would have scrapped everyone! We were afraid! We wanted to survive!"   
"And we killed others," he said tonelessly. "He will hate me."   
"No."   
Silver optics flashed up and she nearly flinched back. "He doesn't know anything about this particular part of my past and I never want him to find out!"   
"You are Interfaced...."   
"And you are not!" he shot back. "Nicholas and I are not telepathically linked! We don't read each other's thoughts! Interfacing is different! He will never know!"   
Phoenix steeled herself against his anger. "One day he will and the further in the future this day is..."   
"The better!"   
"No, the worse! Tornado, you are stubborn and you are a fool! Do I have to remind you of what Midnight told you about Interfacing? It will leak!"   
He pushed himself away from the desk and glared at her. "I've been Interfaced for some time now and nothing has 'leaked'!"   
"Not yet.... Or maybe it has? How can you be so sure?"   
His hands clenched and unclenched. Phoenix knew that Tornado was deeply burdened by his past and he was terribly afraid of Nicholas' reaction. Phoenix had come to know her leader's Interface partner and she appreciated how he had influenced him. Nicholas was understanding in many ways, but he was not giving in to anything he didn't want or which went against anything he believed in. He was a mechanical genius and had been a great help rebuilding Mernan, besides the fact that he had been nearly blinded by an accident several days earlier. Phoenix also knew that Tornado would protect his human partner with his life, despite the fact that he had fought this Interface from the start. They had grown together and Phoenix hated to see this secrecy about something that belonged so much to Tornado's past.   
"Think about it," she added softly and walked toward the door. "He will find out one day...."   
And then the doors closed behind her, leaving Tornado alone with his past and his problems.

* * *

Sparks hesitated as she entered the doorway chamber. It looked empty and desolate. The giant rings were quiet and inactive, though they still hummed with life if she listened closely. No one was here except Sphere who was working on the crystal cube console, busy with whatever it was she was doing. Nightmare was on Earth, Raven was currently off duty and Starscream ... he was M.I.A. The lonely figure was bent over the cube, her fingers moving over the surface. Sparks moved noiselessly closer and jumped onto the ring. She had a healthy respect for this alien construction but she also knew that it was inactive now. Watching Sphere work she wondered if this had been such a good idea. The whole affair was none of her business -- then again, maybe it was. Megatron was her business, her personal business, and Sphere... in a way she felt responsible for her as well. Responsible to get those two to talk to each other.   
"What do you want?" Sphere suddenly asked, her voice soft.   
Sparks shrugged. "Keep you company?"   
Sphere turned and her green optics reflected a smile. "Or find company for yourself?"   
"Huh, yeah, right. The day I need company because I got rid of Mr. Personality is the day I get a Decepticon symbol on a collar!"   
Sphere smiled even more. "Ah."   
"Listen, if you don't want company here, tell me, okay? I won't force my presence." Sparks knew she had to tread carefully around the female Key. She looked okay, she sounded okay, but she wasn't okay. If you concentrated on her voice, her behavior, you could see it quite clearly.   
"No, actually I'm glad someone is here." Sphere abandoned her task and walked over to Sparks, sitting down beside the black cat. "And I guess for you it is the same."   
Sparks shot her an evil look, then grew serious. "How are you?" It was an open question, one she didn't have any hope of getting answered, but to her surprise, Sphere's optics suddenly looked shadowed.   
"I would be lying if I said I'm fine. I can't erase my memories." She smiled wryly.   
"Why don't you share those memories? Why don't you talk? A lot of people worry about you."   
She looked down at her and Sparks saw the pain. "Talk? With whom? You?"   
"No. I'm not the right person for that kind of talking. I'm the one you need if you want some witty comebacks." She grinned.   
Sphere reflected the grin.   
"But seriously," the cat went on. "A lot of us worry and you don't help by holing up in here."   
"No one would understand," Sphere whispered. "No one can understand what it means .... to be .... possessed...." She shuddered.   
"But there is someone."   
Two pairs of green optics met.   
"Megatron," Sparks said softly.   
Sphere frowned in confusion.   
"You don't know much about him, do you?"   
"No, not really. I know what I learned from the few encounters we had... and what Starscream told me. We never got off on a good start," Sphere sighed.   
"Let me tell you, Sphere, he is the right person to talk to."   
"Why?"   
And Sparks told her. About Unicron, about Galvatron, about the 'possession' Galvatron had gone through because Unicron had controlled his mind, about the death of the giant planet and the resulting insanity of Galvatron because he had felt the link tear, taking a part of him with it. And about Megatron's rebirth.   
Sphere listened without interrupting. When Sparks had finished, her expression was one of thoughtfulness. Sparks didn't add anything else. She simply hopped down from her place and left as silently as she had come. She hoped this worked. She hated to see both suffer, all the time knowing that they could help each other.

* * *

Rodimus was in his office, brooding over the papers lying on his desk, his optics a cold blue. The folder was labeled 'Earth Matters', something that sounded rather vague, but which hit everything in it right on the head. Not only was this folder rather big, it was also just one of a whole row of folders in his office. The little banter with Shanygn had lightened his mood for a brief moment, but now he was back in the hard and dark reality. Earth was pulling back from Cybertron and only the EDC was more or less in constant contact. Earth companies were trying to battle it out with Earth governments, but the governments were winning. Relationships were strained and trade agreements were slowly unraveling.   
Then there had been and still was the episode on Nebulos. A company run by a guy called Evans had managed to sneak through the quarantine and land on the contaminated planet. They had not been discovered and had traveled across the wastelands to buy land and mining rights. And then they had fallen victim to the contamination. All of the small team were currently treated in the main hospital camp, but from Chaos' report Optimus had received, they were not faring better than any of the infected Nebulans. Some had already slipped into stage two, some had just fallen sick. It all came down to the one, cruel fact that they were not allowed to leave and would probably die on the planet. Evans had tried to pull some strings, but they had not brought the wanted results. No bribery could buy a transport off the planet. Every other planet had received the warnings and had seen the results. They were afraid and they had every right to be.   
Rodimus leaned back and sighed deeply. At least some normality had returned after the latest chaos. West Central as up and running, and no more sabotage acts threatened their security. Firebird's infiltration and sabotages, as well as his assassination attempt on Optimus Prime, had rattled their foundations, but things were calming down. Optimus was still rather close-mouthed about the whole thing and Rodimus knew that the Autobot leader had not yet managed to get past the short mind contact with the Tji assassin. He had come out of his coma, but he was not dealing well with the attack -- though he was his old, usual self on the outside. No one but his closest friends knew what was happening inside, and Rodimus knew it quite intimately. He had traveled through the Matrix to find Optimus and get him back.   
"Damn," he whispered, closing the folder.   
One day he would have to deal with it, but Optimus was not ready for that day yet. Another blow had been delivered to Midnight and he was dealing with it right now, as far as he knew, but Rodimus also knew that what the Sentinel leader had discovered on that strange planet in he now destroyed base was straining the Interface partnership between Midnight and Steven Parker.   
Everyone was having problems, him included, and there seemed to be no easy solution to all of them. He sighed deeply again. At least some people had a bit of happiness, however short, and he was glad that Shanygn was among them. She needed this happiness. She had been through too much, with him and without him.   
Rodimus played with a pen, staring at the wall. Then his optics wandered back to his schedule. There was a meeting with Cyclonus in about an hour. Counterstrike matters. Well, he should at least finish his memo concerning Metroplex' removal from Earth. Even now Earth was still bugging him about it. Metroplex was gone, the land had been turned into the untouched desert it had been before, but the US government was trying to buy the land Metroplex had stood on back. And neither Optimus nor Rodimus were inclined to give it to them -- for whatever they offered.

*

Not very far away, though not in his office, Optimus Prime was busy with some important matters as well. There was no file on this matter, except for the medical files kept by med bay's staff, but it was the most important on his mind right now. The file was labeled 'Adam Witwicky' and Optimus hated to read it all too closely, though he knew almost every detail. Right now he was standing in exactly this med bay, watching Kyle check his patient. Spike was sitting through the whole examination and didn't twitch a muscle. The cybernetic implants were not visible, hidden under artificial skin that mimicked every function of real skin. On a screen behind the examination table x-rays could be seen and they showed quite clearly where human body parts had been replaced with artificial ones. As Spike slid off the table, he smiled at the tall Transformer.   
"Hello, Optimus."   
Optimus forced a smile into his voice. "Hello, Spike. How are you?"   
"Fine. Better than months earlier. And it looks like it might get much better soon."   
"So you are accepting the Protogen transfer?" Optimus asked calmly.   
Spike nodded. "Carly and I talked. It's my best chance."   
"And what will Carly do?"   
Spike was a bit surprised about the rather direct question, something he would not have expected from Optimus a few decades ago. But he had changed, inside and outside. Optimus had gone through hell several times and he was facing a return to it maybe soon. He had grown from what he had been and Spike thought it was for the best.   
"We have an agreement," Spike said softly. "It's her decision what she wants to do and I won't force her. She said she'd think about it, but we already talked before I started the cybernetics treatment and she declined." He shoved his hands into his pockets.   
They walked in silence for some time, then stopped in a room overlooking South Port.   
"I'm sorry," Optimus whispered as they watched the busy streets below them.   
Spike looked up at the towering Autobot and knew what he meant. If Carly didn't undergo the same transfer she would continue aging and die one day. And Spike would continue, almost immortal. Optimus had lost his own partner, Aleeta One, as well and he was lonely. He also wasn't ready to look for a possible new partnership and Spike thought he understood it. It would feel like a betrayal.   
"Not your fault," he told his friend.   
Optimus sighed softly, a sound almost inaudible. "In a way it is. I asked you to go to Nebulos for this last requested meeting...."   
"Optimus, no!" Spike interrupted him immediately. "I decided to go and it was of my own free choice. I was no longer in the diplomatic corps and could have declined right away. And it wasn't a false understanding of friendship either. I wanted to go because I felt I might make a difference and because the Nebulans requested me in particular. It could have turned the tide ...."   
"And now it has destroyed your life," Optimus whispered, almost unaware of what he was saying.   
"Maybe. Maybe not. I fell sick, but I survived the bombing, which is more than most can say," Spike told him calmly. "And I'm getting a better chance of survival than many."   
Optimus flinched a bit and Spike scolded himself for reminding the Autobot leader of the suffering on Nebulos. Protogen was a small hope, but it might not work at all. And if it worked on Spike it didn't mean it worked on the Nebulans as well. They were of different origin, though some genetic data was the same, which was the reason for the infection.   
"Yes, you have," Optimus now said. "I hope you will survive." A small smile flashed over his visible face.   
Spike nodded and gazed thoughtfully over the landscape. "Thanks for letting us stay here."   
Optimus shot him a surprised look. "You always have a home here, Spike!"   
The human smiled a bit. "Yes, I know."   
Carly and Spike had given up their home on Earth after it had become clear that Earth was slowly progressing to an Anti-Autobot status. And there was also the fact that the Protogen transfer would be Spike's only chance now. Cybernetics had been a chance as well, but Dr. McGregor had warned him about the possibility of an identity crisis affecting his mind if they continued with the replacements. Spike had to confess he had already experienced them and his sensitivity to things had decreased. McGregor had told him they could continue, but it might lead to a mental split.   
"We came here because we feel this is our home, Optimus," he went on. "Earth is drawing back and I don't agree with its action."   
"I know, Spike, and I wish the governments would see the truth, but they don't. Daniel is doing as much as he possibly can, but we don't seem to be able to win any ground. We've been discussing a complete withdrawal."   
The former ambassador looked up in surprise. "That would hit like a sledge hammer!"   
"I am aware of it. It's our last resort, cutting off all relations, but I'm ready to take this step."   
Spike nodded. "They are afraid," he said softly.   
"They are demanding without thinking," Optimus shot back, anger flashing in his optics. "They won't give, only take! I'm not ready to give in to these ridiculous demands when the whole planet of Cybertron is on the verge of getting in the worst battle of its history because Earth can't stand up for itself!"   
"They saw what happened to Nebulos."   
"And they know Nebulos is technologically far behind Earth's development! They didn't have the necessary machinery to defend themselves because they choose it this way. They demanded we leave their planet and the Tji struck!"   
Spike sighed deeply, not arguing the point.. "And now Earth is doing the same."   
"But I don't think they are a target, Spike! Nebulos was attacked because of Fortress Maximus!" Optimus shook his head. "Earth is of no interest to the Tji. We are. We are the enemy. If they wanted to hit every planet associated with us they would have done more damage in the last years!"   
"They hit the Planet of Junk," Spike reminded him.   
"And destroyed a few places, but never declared a all-out war on the planet. If it had been like that, no Junkion would be alive now." Optimus shook his head once again. "It's so senseless and foolish." He clasped his hands behind his back, standing rigid like a statue.   
"There won't be any arguing with Earth governments. I know. I tried." Spike smiled humorlessly.   
"I accepted that." Optimus smiled as well, just as humorlessly. "And I will go on and not look back."   
Spike closed his eyes briefly, wishing he could turn back time and find out where in hell everything had started to go so terribly wrong. He couldn't. He had to accept.   
And in this moment, he did.

* * *

"NO!"   
The cry echoed through the wasteland and hit Brainstorm harder than any physical weapon imaginable. In front of him, kneeling in the dust, hands buried in the blackened earth, was Chromedome. His optics were ablaze with emotional pain and he was shaking. Cybertronians couldn't cry, but Brainstorm felt like it, though he had never even experienced it.   
"Chromedome?" he asked hesitantly, walking forward. He had no idea what to do. He was no one to comfort others, to help them through their turmoil, but he felt personally responsible in a way -- for everything. His guilt was a burden that was about to smother him and he had no idea how to get out of it.   
Bright blue optics looked at him, then Chromedome bowed his head again. "Why?" he whispered, voice choked with emotions.   
Brainstorm knelt down beside him, unable to answer that question. There were many reasons, all of them scientific, medical, cold and clinical. But that was not what Chromedome was asking.   
"I don't know," he whispered.   
Styler was dead.   
He had died a few hours ago, never waking out of his coma, simply slipping further and further away. Chromedome had been there and he had taken it quite well at the time, but now he had broken. Brainstorm had heard from Lightspeed that his friend had left the camp and raced through the wasteland, finally coming to a stop. Chromedome had worked out his anger by shooting at some ruins, then he had quieted down.   
Brainstorm couldn't even imagine what it was like to separate from his Headmaster partner, let alone see him die. He and Arkana were the only ones who hadn't been infected, who didn't have to separate and watch one partner die.   
Guilt.   
Survivor's guilt.   
Styler was dead, Gort was suffering from advanced stage one and Hardhead with his partner Duros were missing. Hardhead had run away, trying to escape the inevitable and Brainstorm knew from Chaos what this implied. If Duros went into stage two coma with Hardhead still connected to him, the robot partner would go insane.   
"I will kill them!" Chromedome vowed now. "I'll hunt them down until the last of those miserable energy creature is dead in front of me!"   
He jumped up and stared at Brainstorm, challenging him to contradict. Brainstorm did no such thing. He only rose as well, a sad expression on his face. Chromedome simply transformed and shot off, enveloping Brainstorm in a cloud of dust.   
"It's suicide," the last remaining Headmaster whispered into the silence around him.   
Inside of him Arkana could only agree.

* * *

Nicholas had his arms wrapped around Shanygn as they sat on the couch, watching a movie. Her cold was a matter of the past and all the tissue papers were gone. His chin rested on her head as she snuggled against him. He felt Shanygn's slow breathing, her body relaxed against his. He smiled a bit. It had taken them a long time to come this far, to give her enough trust to relax completely and not tense every time he took a breath himself. He understood her and he was patient. Shanygn had gone through so much. She had yet to tell him everything, but he knew about the humiliations she had had to endure at the hands of those who had been entrusted to treat her, to take care of her, and he knew about the forced operation. It made him feel sick to the core and sometimes he wished he could beat the heads of those in who had tortured and abused all those helpless people! Nicholas wished he could undo Shanygn's past but he couldn't. He could help her and hope she let him.   
The movie ended and Nicholas hit the remote, turning off the video. "So?" he asked.   
Shanygn craned her neck and looked at him. "Yes?"   
"What do you think?"   
Shanygn chewed on her lower lip. "I'm not quite familiar with old Earth movie tradition, but ... well .... I'd say it was kinda funny."   
"Kind of?!" Nicholas exclaimed. "This is a classic!"   
Shanygn chuckled, reaching for the tape's cover. It said 'Down Periscope' on it, an old movie Nicholas had dug up somewhere. "Hey, don't feel offended!"   
He grumbled something that sounded like 'Hah, no idea about classics!'.   
"And it was really funny!"   
"Kind of," he said pointedly.   
Shanygn laughed and lightly poked him into the ribs.   
"Ey, easy there, I just ate!" he protested.   
"You gobbled down a plate full of Chinese that could have fed two families," she corrected.   
"I was hungry."   
"You are always hungry!"   
"I'm growing up. I need my regular meals," he muttered with a pout audible in his voice.   
Shanygn laughed out loud. "Growing up?" she exclaimed. "Sure! You are a forty year old man who is still growing up -- in here!" She tapped his forehead with a finger.   
"Nearly forty," he corrected her. "And I'm staying that way! Don't make me any older than I already am! Next thing you tell me I have gray hair."   
"Well, you do!"   
Nicholas sighed. "Why did I ever get into this relationship?" he asked philosophically. "Nothing but torment and tortures....."   
Shanygn turned and gave him a mock-glare. "You go one like that and you get more than a poke!"   
Nicholas bent forward. "And what might that be?"   
She smiled. "Secret." With that she gave him a quick kiss and then settled back against his chest again. "So, what's the other movie?" she asked.   
Nicholas untangled himself and popped in the second tape. As she watched him, Shanygn became aware of a strange, nagging feeling. She had had it before and she knew it had to do with Rodimus. Nothing was leaking because he was shielding, but he was apparently quite busy with something. Shanygn decided it had to be something to do with Cybertron or Earth affairs and sooner or late he'd tell her. For now she didn't want to think about anything but her 'off time' and enjoy herself.

* * *

It was an impressive spectacle and Jazz had to admit he had never seen anything quite like it, except maybe Unicron coming at him and about to eat MoonBase One. But the Apocalypse was no enemy, it was the Decepticon flagship and had been built by them.   
"This is West Central command," he called into the mike. "Apocalypse, you are cleared for approach. Park at the following coordinates."   
"Acknowledging coordinates," it came from the Apocalypse. "Requesting medical personnel stand-by."   
"Gotcha. Medical personnel is standing by and ready for action. Transmit data strings."   
The Apocalypse started to send the medical files on the two patients and Jazz transferred them to med bay at South Port immediately.   
Half an hour later the flagship was parked at the preassigned coordinates and a shuttle had been dispatched to get Blitzwing and Fireflight to the surface.

* * *

Rodimus Prime was off duty and had found his way into the library, his mind heavily shielded, glad that Shanygn wasn't busy trying to 'eavesdrop'. She wasn't doing it on purpose and never with a malicious intent, but she liked to bug him now and then and he appreciated it. It lightened his mood and drew him out of the darkness of reality. Right now he was dealing with reality again, a reality he didn't want Shanygn to intrude in. Mainly because it concerned her own past. Rodimus was trying to find out more about his Interface partner. He knew all there was to know about her personal tragic past, her fight to be accepted and her pain and humiliation at the hands of her own people. It had answered a lot of questions about her strange behavior now and then and her secrecy concerning every bit of personal information. What he was now trying to find out was where she had come from.   
And he had found the planet.   
Rodimus sighed and shook his head. He had been keeping this a secret for some time now, afraid what might happen if Shanygn ever found out he was spying. He respected her privacy, had done so for over fifteen years until she had opened up and told him about her past. He also respected the secrecy about her homeworld, a place she never wanted to return to, but he wanted to know more. So he had started to carefully dig deeper and he had discovered a lot. Now he was down here in the library to get some more data on this planet. It was on the star maps and it was on the basic trading routes, though the population of the planet showed no interest in outside contact and no bases or space stations had been erected. Now and then a ship landed and Rodimus had discovered that those ships were of questionable intent, most likely either drug lords or slavers. Thinking about what those dark elements of society were probably trading made him feel sick.   
Downloading all the information he could find on a data disk he shut down the library terminal and then left, his mind still heavily shielded.   
Maybe Shanygn would find out one day.   
And she would most likely kill him for what he had done, but this was about his Interface partner, the person who knew him better than he knew himself and someone he trusted with his life. He wanted to help and understand her and knowing about her homeworld was part of it.   
Or wasn't it?

* * *

"They are onto us."   
Optimus Prime's face was a mask, but his eyes told quite clearly what he thought. They had been lucky for a long time and now the Tji were paying back the same way, ambushing their Counterstrike missions.   
"Are we pulling back?" Tornado asked calmly.   
Optimus shook his head. "No, not yet. That's what they want, isn't it? We pull back, they secure their perimeters even more and we can't strike again."   
"So we strike as much as we can in the little time we have," Rodimus continued, voice thoughtful. "We might not have a lot of it, though."   
"It will be enough," Megatron said coldly. "All teams are standing by. Soundwave has relayed coordinates farthest away from what we believe is the main Tji base and we are monitoring ship movements out of the area. All targets can be hit within an hour -- simultaneously."   
Prime nodded. "Good. Get them ready. We'll do it."   
"The Tji will most likely have some of those places secured already," Tornado interjected.   
"We can handle it," Megatron told him, voice even.   
"No backup?"   
"Correct."   
Tornado didn't like it, but he shut up. Counterstrike had been called to life to operate without backup and each member was very good. But they had also seen what had happened to Fireflight and Blitzwing. Fireflight was already on-line again, but Blitzwing had been put under a stasis repair field again to heal the core wounds.   
Optimus looked at the map displaying all known Tji bases and depots. Some were marked and those were the targets. "I wonder why they only hit the strike teams and not any others," he muttered.   
Rodimus was wondering the same. The Tji had to know that these were hit-and-run missions, so why wait to ambush them? Why not hit the bases on other planets, like they had hit Nebulos? Why not try to take out some ships? Why not move against Cybertron? He had no answer for this, but like Optimus, he was suspicious of it.   
"I want the Apocalypse to run an attack as well," Optimus now said levely, which drew a surprised look from Megatron. "There."   
The Decepticon leader stared at the target. It was in the middle of this cluster of bases and most likely a fighter factory. The report was unconfirmed but everything hinted toward it.   
"Optimus," Rodimus now said carefully, "that's madness!"   
"The Apocalypse is the only cloaked ship we have that also has the capacity to make this run," Prime explained calmly. "She can go in, hit the factory and run off. And the attack will spread enough primary confusion to let the Counterstrike teams fulfill their own missions with a minimum amount of danger."   
Megatron met the blue, serious optics and then nodded slowly. "Agreed. What about the Monolith?"   
"I'm pulling her off Nebulos as backup for the Apocalypse. The Tji won't be too dazzled and will try to take her out the moment they get their brains back together. We let them go after the Apocalypse and run straight into the Monolith."   
Rodimus rubbed his optics. He didn't like it but he saw the logic behind it. "All right," he finally agreed.   
Megatron nodded as well and Tornado simply shrugged.   
"Let's get the show on the road," Optimus only said and rose.

* * *

It was time.   
Everything was prepared and ready to go.   
It would be a tricky operation and it wasn't even an operation. It was a mixture of a transplant and an implant. Dr. Kyle Scott watched as First Aid brought in the Protogen form and placed it on the table next to Spike. The human gave it a look that was a mixture of fear and anticipation.   
"Are you okay?" Kyle asked calmly.   
Spike smiled slightly. "Yeah, more or less." His eyes were drawn over to the transparent wall where someone was watching the whole procedure with an anxious expression. It was Carly.   
Spike gave her an encouraging smile and received one of her own. They had talked about this, in length, and she had told him she would not stand in his way. It was his life they were talking about, his survival, and Protogen was the best chance besides cybernetic implants -- and there was a limit as to what a body could sustain concerning implants. Spike's arms and legs, as well as some organs, especially the heart, had already been replaced and it was only a matter of time until even the last surviving body cell would have to be replaced. Protogen was another chance and they had taken it.   
First Aid came over and looked down at his human patient. "We are ready, Spike."   
The ambassador nodded. "Let's do it," he whispered.   
Kyle took the electrodes lying close by and attached them to specific places on Spike's head. They had shaven all his hair off for this procedure. Spike inhaled deeply and looked at the non-descript, humanoid shaped form on the bed next to him. Kyle attached the last electrodes and then stepped into Spike's point of view again. "All right, Spike. I'll give you something to relax while we transfer your imprints into the spark. It might take a while, but you won't feel a thing. You will sleep and we won't force your mind into a new environment. You won't go into shock."   
Spike nodded slowly. This had been one of his conditions. The last time his mind had been transferred into a robot body he had woken without knowing what had happened and he had been totally shocked.   
"Do it," he whispered.   
Kyle injected him and Spike drifted off. He didn't hear the activation of the transfer machine and he didn't feel his mind leave his dying body -- his human body.   
The Protogen spark was given life.

* * *

It was a pleasant night, calm and warm. Sounds of night animals penetrated the otherwise quiet land, and here and there was a rustle of little feet scurrying through the underbrush. A rabbit stopped and sniffed the air, its short ears twitching nervously. It had no real natural enemies here; there were neither foxes nor birds of prey. But it had to be careful of dogs from the near-by town, or traps set by the hunters. It hopped on, searching for some edible grass.   
Mel watched the rabbit with a smile, her eyes showing the small life form either as a reddish blob of warmth or a greenish shape as if seen through night vision goggles.   
"It's working!" she whispered in excitement.   
Nightmare rumbled in satisfaction. "I told you it would. You only had to get used to the idea of switching your point of view by accessing the control chip."   
The young human turned and smiled at the Gatekeeper. "Easy for you to say. You are used to accessing and stuff like that. We humans do that subconsciously."   
"And now you have to learn something new and do it consciously if you need to change your view. You won't have to change often," he added, "but if you need to, you have to know how."   
Melissa Witwicky nodded and looked up into the starry sky. It was a beautiful night and she had really missed Earth. And she might have to leave soon. A shadow crossed her face and Nightmare lowered his head, gently nuzzling her shoulder. Their friendship had started when she had been two years old and toddling around his legs. He had been so frightened that he might harm the small child, that he could kill her, that Carly had made it her personal task to convince him otherwise. And in time he had accepted the fact that he could move without hurting her and that this tiny human life form was very much attached to him. The teenager Mel had liked Nightmare, mainly because he was a horse in his alternate mode, and later they had spent a lot time training her empathic talent together. Nightmare and Raven had been willing subjects, letting Mel sit in the doorway chamber and do he training, make notes and be a good friend.   
Now she had mastered the implants.   
And she was also very much aware of the political situation all around her, mainly because her brother was deeply entangled in this political net. Earth had banished Autobot City from Earth and the Cybertronians were slowly but surely cutting their links, mainly because Earth officials encouraged it. They thought isolationism would prevent them getting involved in the Tji war. It wouldn't. Mel knew it. Relations were incredibly strained and the country was splitting between pro-Cybertron and anti-Cybertron factions. People either vowed their help or threatened her. It was terrible and it was frightening. Daniel had already received threats against his family and his life and she knew he was hinking about relocating -- to Cybertron.   
"Are you all right?" Nightmare asked quietly.   
Mel shook her head, her pony tail bouncing around. "No," she answered honestly. "I hate what is going on and what will happen. This is my home, as much as Cybertron is as well, and I hate to see my homes separating. I'm torn between two worlds and I have to choose."   
Nightmare looked into the night. Yes, she would have to choose. "You don't have to do it now," he said softly.   
"I have," she contradicted. "Mom and Dad already moved. Dad is starting a new life as a Protogen and I want to help them deal with it. I know I can. I know they want to have me close." She looked seriously at him. "And I want to be where all my friends are."   
Nightmare's optics reflected a smile. "Let's go," he only said.   
Both left the small forest and walked back to her brother Daniel's home where she had stayed for the last days.

* * *

Carly smiled softly at her still sleeping husband. The operation/transfer had been finished half a day ago and Kyle had told her that they were keeping Spike under as long as it took for the spark to sort out the mind and vice versa. Even though he was not conscious, Spike's subconsciousness was very much aware that he was not in his own body any more.   
"Talk to him," Kyle had told her. "Funny stories, things of the past. Help him find the way between the spark and his mind. His memories are all in there and they need to sort themselves out. You can be of aide by telling him stories."   
And so she had started, from the first day they had met, to their first date, their adventures with the Autobots on Earth, how they had gone to Cybertron to get the Dinobots home; Spike's proposal, her pregnancy with Daniel, his birth. Mel. How she had been pregnant a second time.   
"Do you remember how Rodimus came to stay with us after he was turned human a second time?" she asked now, chuckling a bit.   


Spike looked at their guest. The man standing before him was younger than he was, by about ten years from the looks of it. His brown hair had a definite red touch to it and the blue eyes were striking in the pale face. He was about as tall as Spike and rather lean. Bruises decorated his left cheek and there was a cut on his forehead that was just healing. For an irrational second he wondered if this would leave a scar, then scolded himself silently. This was no ordinary human being. This was Rodimus Prime, or at least his essence forced into a humanoid body. It was an eerie feeling to see his friend this way, without the difference in size and shape.   
"Hi!" Carly welcomed him and smiled.   
Rodimus gave her a half-hearted smile back. His hands were wrapped tightly and Spike reminded himself of the burns. They had to really hurt.   
"Hi," he said gingerly. "I hope I'm not a bother."   
Carly gave a mock groan. Optimus had called them to ask if Rodimus could stay with them since the young Autobot needed to get out of Autobot City and somewhere he could relax a bit more. Everyone was trying to treat him like there was no difference, but having your commanding officer shrunk down and turned human was not normal and many Autobots had severe problems, including Kup and Ultra Magnus. So Optimus had decided that getting Rodimus out of town for a while until Perceptor was done with the transformation machine was the best way to solve this arising problem.   
"You are not!" she told him firmly. "And if I think you are, you get a dose of Mel to make yourself useful!" She grinned.   
Rodimus smiled a bit.   
Carly gently took him by the arm. "C'mon, I'll show you your room. Then we can talk about the rest of the things you need to know."   
"Like what?" he asked.   
"Oh, normal human stuff."   
He sighed. "I've been human before, Carly, I know the basics."   
"You were human for a few hours, Rodimus, and this time we might have you like this for days, if Perceptor is correct." A dark cloud crossed his face and Carly regretted it. "Listen," she said softly, "I know this is rather .... annoying, disgusting or discomforting for you, but we have to keep the option open that you have to spend some time with us, at least one night." She gave him another smile. "Don't worry."   
Rodimus sighed. "But I do, Carly. I know you mean well, but I can't help thinking...." He broke off and shook his head.   
Carly regarded him closely for a second, then decided that if he didn't want to talk about it, she wouldn't force him. She pushed a door open. "This is our guest room," she announced. "You have to share the bathroom, though. Anything you prefer for dinner?"   
Rodimus tried not to grimace. "Nothing at all would be best," he confessed.   
Carly gave him a blank look.   
"I ...er... I think it's bit disgusting...." the Autobot confessed and she saw a blush creep up. Carly thought it looked cute.   
"What did they give you in med bay?" she wanted to know.   
"Liquid feed."   
"Oh." She thought furiously. "I could give you the same stuff Mel gets. Looks like nothing that was alive once and you don't have to chew it. More or less like drinking."   
"I'm not sure...."   
"Tell you what: we wait and see what your body tells you to eat. If you feel a hunger for something, providing it isn't energon, then you can trust yourself that you'll enjoy it, okay?"   
He nodded dubiously.   
"As for the other stuff, Spike can explain to you the theory of shaving."   
"Shaving?" he echoed, looking suddenly very pale.   
Carly patted him soothingly. "Go with the flow," she advised. "Why don't you rest for a while? I'll have some stuff to buy for dinner and Spike has a meeting. Daniel will be home to baby-sit Mel, so if you need anything, yell."   
"Thanks," he said and truly meant it.   
Carly met his eyes seriously. "You are welcome."   


Those were funny memories and her whole face reflected the smile. Rodimus had stayed for a week with them, learning about his body and trying to adjust.   


Against all better judgment Rodimus did fall asleep for some time, but noises woke him. He got up from the bed, trying to coordinate muscles he had never had and a body that wasn't his own. He always had difficulties after sleeping. Leaving the guest room he walked into the living room and found not only Daniel and the baby, but also Shanygn. His Interface partner was for once dressed more or less casually, without her exo-suit, the exo-skeleton hidden beneath some kind of overall. She was holding Melissa in her arms and playing with the baby. When Rodimus entered, she looked up and smiled.   
"Hey, bright-eyes," she called.   
"Hi," he answered, wincing at the nickname. His eyes were too bright blue he had been told, but he didn't think it was reason enough for her to call him this!   
"How do you feel?"   
Rodimus was once again reminded that they were not really Interfaced and neither of them had tried to find out if their link was still working while he was human. Shanygn had said if it popped up again, okay; if not, she didn't want to force it. He went with that.   
"Better."   
"You want something to eat or drink?" Daniel asked.   
"Uh, not really, no. Maybe something to drink, but no eating."   
Shanygn scowled at him as Daniel went to fetch a glass. "The last time you 'ate' was in med bay and that was liquid stuff."   
"Shan, please...."   
"You have to eat something some time."   
He sighed. "And that will be soon enough." He sat down beside her and became the immediate focus of Mel. The baby gurgled something and looked at him with large, brown eyes. She was one of the few babies born with dark eyes right from the start instead of blue ones.   
Shanygn smiled and settled her so she could watch the interesting new person on the couch.   
Rodimus in turn was fascinated by the small human. From a robot's point of view babies were tiny and fragile. Even now Mel looked fragile, but no longer so small.   
Daniel returned and gave him the water. Rodimus drank half the glass, thinking that maybe continuing on liquid food, baby food, might be manageable. Drinking wasn't too bad.   
The Carly of the Past watched it all from her position in the kitchen doorway, grinning.   


The Carly of Now took Spike's hand, the hand of the Protogen body, touching it ever so gently. There was no different feel to his skin. It was soft and warm and alive. Her husband was alive.....   
She knew it; she felt it.   
"And remember how Mel stood up against Optimus when he tried to warn her off from Nightmare?" she continued, ready to recite every day of their shared life until he woke.

* * *

"Apocalypse in position."   
Megatron acknowledged and nodded at Jazz to give the green light for both the Monolith and the teams.   
Counterstrike was go.

* * *

Hardhead had wandered over the surface of Nebulos for weeks now, steadily growing worse. His body was running fine, his energon supplies were rather good, but his mind was going. Slowly but surely. Duros was in the middle of stage two, barely aware of his surroundings and the brief moments of lucidity were not enough to get through to Hardhead, who was suffering just like his partner. His mind was like a sponge, absorbing the fever and hallucinations, replaying them endlessly. The Headmaster had fallen victim to the contamination in a way everyone had always feared would happen to the joined partners: he mirrored Duros' sickness without even being aware of it.   
Everything around him twisted in shape and color and size. He didn't know where he was or even who. He knew he had to run, to keep going, to get away. From who or what he had no idea of.   
Just run.   
Get away.   
He stumbled and the ground came up to meet him.   
His mind seemed to glow from inside, burning him .....   
He tried to get to his feet.   
He couldn't.   
Everything seemed out of proportion, out of dimension......   
And Duros slipped into the final phase of stage two.

* * *

There was no waking up.   
Not a real waking anyway.   
One moment there was nothing, the next he was conscious. No in-between phase, no confusion. He was ... on-line.   
Spike was still confused, but on a different level. He knew what was around him, he heard it all.   
Soft voices, both human and robot.   
He actually felt something as well.   
Cold metal under his fingers.....   
He opened his eyes and instead of being blinded by the light he adjusted to it.   
He turned his head -- and discovered his wife. Carly smiled at him, her face lined with exhaustion and worry, but a smile tugged at her lips and also reaching her eyes.   
"Welcome home," she whispered.   
Someone else stepped into his view as he was about to say something and he identified Kyle Scott. "Spike? How do you feel?"   
Spike frowned. "Okay," he said slowly. "No different than before.... maybe a bit more, uhm, acute. But otherwise, just fine."   
Kyle nodded. "Good. First Aid will run a check on the whole system now that you are awake, but the transfer went smoothly as expected." He smiled. "The ants have adjusted to your mind and have replicated your looks."   
"And you are looking good," Carly told him with a sly smile.   
"I don't feel any ... different." Spike lifted a hand, the one Carly was holding, and looked at it. It looked human, it felt human..... but it wasn't. Even if they hadn't transferred his consciousness, it would be a cybernetic replacement.   
"We cut down all extra functions," Kyle explained. "You'll get access to them the moment you have an idea what you are dealing with -- and if you really want to. We decided you first need to get used to this body."   
He nodded and carefully sat up. No difference.... but also no strain. He felt himself moving, his brain's impulses were transmitted, but there were no muscles that needed coaxing. Spike met Carly's anxious look and smiled. She closed the distance and hugged him. He returned the hug, aware that Kyle unobstrusively moving away, giving them time and some space.   
"Welcome back," Carly whispered, holding on tightly.   
"Thanks for helping me back," he muttered into her hair.   
The first Protogen form was alive.

* * *

Ultra Magnus stood on the battle bridge of the Monolith, monitoring the communication. The Apocalypse was about to decloak and hit the factory on the planet.   
"We are ready, Sir," the Autobot manning weapons control told him calmly.   
Magnus nodded. "Don't move before we have them in range."   
"Roger that."

* * *

Like so many other strike teams, Rampage and Swoop were watching their target, waiting for the green light. Their particular target was a supply depot inside an asteroid belt. They had sneaked as close as was possible. Swoop hovered in space in his aerial mode, all weapons ready, Rampage close by in a fighter.   
And then they received the 'go'.   
"Okay, let's hit them hard and fast!" Rampage growled.   
Swoop gave an affirmative and they followed their pre-set battle plan.

*

"We have encountered the enemy! Repeat, they were waiting for us!" Sandstorm called and then concentrated on guiding his fighter through the cluster of enemy fire.   
The Tji were already on the move and Octane was doing his best shooting them out of the sky as quickly as they came onto them. It was a difficult job because not even the best shot could take a Tji out right away and their fighters were heavily armed.   
"We have to pull back!" the triple-changer now shouted. "There are too many!"   
Sandstorm gave a low growl. Yes, his partner was right, but he didn't have to like it. At least they had been able to send the cargo on its way. A scanner told him that the small torpedo was still heading nicely for the space station, the one the Tji had taken over and turned into a fuel station. None of the enemy had seen it go off and no one was apparently looking for such a device.   
"Get back here!" Sandstorm yelled. "We are pulling out!"   
Octane didn't need another invitation. He kicked in the after-burners and roared after the retreating fighter, very much aware of the hot pursuit the squadron of Tji gave them, their counter-fire chipping off more than just the paint job.   
Then their torpedo hit and space was lit up in all the colors of red and yellow.   
The shockwave rolled toward them.

* * *

"The Tji are falling back," Springer reported, a triumphant grin on his face.   
Ultra Magnus nodded. "Hold position and get me in touch with Shockwave."   
Springer acknowledged and Ultra Magnus turned back to watching the fight. The Tji were really falling back, having sustained heavy damage, though not enough to say it was devastating, but at least they knew when to quit.   
"I have Shockwave on the line."   
Magnus nodded and the frequency was opened. "Shockwave, this is Ultra Magnus, I propose a retreat."   
"Negative," was the almost emotionless answer.   
"We have what we came for!"   
"We are supposed to keep the Tji busy and concentrate on us," the Decepticon commander told him levely. "We have not yet heard from the strike teams and these were Megatron's orders."   
Ultra Magnus ground his teeth together. "This is madness! You want to risk the obliteration of both flagships?"   
"Also negative, Ultra Magnus. We have the superior firepower and as long as we don't detect any backup coming in, we can take out as many of the enemy as possible."   
Magnus hissed darkly. He knew what the orders had been and if he read between the lines he knew this was exactly what they were here for. Keep the Tji busy with a -- for now -- superior fire power and strength.   
"All right. We keep them busy but the moment the tide turns, we are out of here!"   
"Acknowledged."   
Ultra Magnus' optics flashed briefly, then he turned back to his crew. "Let's hit them with all we have. Take out as many as you can. No hesitation."   
"Aye, Sir!"   
The weapons systems of the Monolith went up on full and the Tji strike force was greeted by a hail of deadly fire. Dead body shells and fighter debris floated in space, drifting past the two battle cruisers as they cut their paths through enemy lines.

Another standard hour later the call for them to retreat came in and Ultra Magnus was only too happy to reply.

* * *

It felt good to be home, even though it meant being back to paperwork and the constant fight with bureaucracy. Megatron looked over the reports and other stacks of papers he would have to have a look at, but somehow this was a minor problem compared to the threat lurking just around the next solar system. The Tji had been beaten back, but the Cybertronians had suffered losses and he had seen how hard it had hit Optimus to read the casualty list. He felt the same pain, but he didn't show it. He wasn't used to showing emotions.   
Ever.   
Something shadowy jumped onto the desk and emerald eyes glowed softly. Sparks stepped into the light of the desk lamp and sat down, regarding him curiously. Megatron hadn't seen much of his 'shadow' lately and he had actually started to miss her. Sparks was more or less part of this office and slowly but surely carved herself a place in his life. He hated to admit it, but he liked to have her around.   
"Welcome back," she finally said. "Miss me?"   
Megatron lifted one corner of his mouth. "Like a sore relay."   
"Aw, I'm moved!" she exclaimed, eyes sparkling.   
His optics returned to staring at the waiting computer screen. The list was on it, displaying every name to him. Every Cybertronian who had died in this war up until now. Too many. Too damn many! And too many had suffered in other ways, members of the Council included.   
Sparks brushed her head against his hand and purred softly. He gently started to brush his fingers over her head, then Sparks moved over to her place on the window sill. Megatron cleared the screen and lost himself in work, something he had put off for too long.   
A few hours later the door bell chimed. Surprised, he saved the data and then looked up at his visitor.   
"Sphere?" he asked, for a second caught completely off guard.   
The female Key looked at him, face serene. Megatron didn't see Sparks leave her place and sneak out of the room. And neither did he see her smirk.   
"Hello," Sphere only said. "I .... would like to talk."   
Sparks trotted away from the office, smiling triumphantly, knowing that part of the healing had begun.

* * *

Ath'antheia counted the losses and clenched his hands into fists. This had been a blow against them that would not so easily be balanced. He had counted on resistance from the Cybertronian strike force teams sent out to hit Tji depots, but he had not counted on their flagships hitting the factory planet supplying their fighter squadrons! Only a few of those either sent out to stop the strike teams or the guardians of fighter plant had come back alive. All the others were lost, slaughtered by the Cybertronian assault force.   
The Tji leader hissed in anger and turned toward Roo, who interpreted the mood of his leader correctly and changed course to one of the outer regions of this quadrant. For now they couldn't do anything but recharge and gather new strength. Their retaliation would be vicious. And this time it wouldn't be a small planet or a space station. It would be Cybertron.   
But all in due time......   



End file.
